Dudley Dursley discovers
by swanpride
Summary: The sequel to "Harry Potter recommends" written by me, translated again by DracaDelirus. THANK YOU!
1. Prologue

_AN: As promised, here comes the sequel to "Harry Potter. For now, I will following a regular update schedule: I will upload something ever first and third Thursday of the month, beginning in July. For now I am alternating between the German and English version and I hope I wont catch up with myself too fast. _

_I know, perhaps one chapter a month doesn't sound much, but the chapters are considerably longer this time around. 5000 words at last. _

_I have aquired a whole staff of betas, so I will dedicate each chapter to one of them. But for now I want to thank DracaDelirus for translating the story for me (and you). She really is the greatest. Although I am a little sorry that she is loosing time she could use to write more for her own stories. I especially recommend patchwork wishes, since the chapters can be read as stand alones too. _

_As always, honest and constructive critisism is appreciated. Actually, good critism helps me to improve my writing and often gives me the inspiration I need, so don't be shy, I won't react grumpy. I will not always agree with you, but I would never call you a flamer for pointing out mistakes to me. _

* * *

**Prologue**

_Tap-tap-tap_

For half an hour, the restless sound of fingers drumming on a wooden surface penetrated into Petunia's cell. Apparently, her guard today was not in favor of sitting quietly for a long time. She stepped to the cell door and peered through the iron bars, but in both directions, she could see nothing except a long hallway with grey stone walls.

_Tap-tap-tap_

Petunia changed positions and went to the window. Or rather, what looked like a window, but actually was not one. The rainy weather of England was proverbial, but an entire week of solid rain was still unnatural. One look had confirmed what she had already suspected. She could recognize nothing behind the curtain of rain. She didn't doubt that even should she manage to pry open the 'window frame', that she would find nothing behind it but a bare wall. Nevertheless, here too bars were attached. Pure harassment!

_Tap-tap-tap_

It could be worse. When these… Aurors… had attacked and abducted them she had initially believed they were taking them to Azkaban. In comparison to the horrors that image painted in her mind, this place was almost tolerable. Almost! Barbaric as these freaks were, they did not grant her even the smallest of comfort. If looks could kill, the tin chamber pot would have long since melted under her hateful glare. It was as unnatural as everything else was in this world. Although she was glad that it was immediately emptied after her (reluctant) use, she would have preferred a proper toilet. Abruptly she turned her back to the repulsive thing and emphatically sat down in a ladylike pose on her sleeping bunk.

_Tap-tap-tap_

She took the (extremely flat) pillow in both hands and tried to fluff it up. The worst part was that she could not stop brooding, her thoughts returned again and again to the most important person in her world: Dudley. Where might he be now? Was he also sitting in a cell? No, certainly not. They could not be so cruel that they would lock up her small Duddydums. He was still a child. Just a child.

_Tap-tap-tap_

She suddenly noticed that she was embracing the pillow tightly. Hastily she laid it aside. No, not like that, now it looked quite messy! And what else, she thought to herself, did she have to do here? She stood up, put the pillow back, and smoothed the bed again.

_Tap-tap-tap_

The school year in Smelting's would soon be over. Where would he go then? Who would look after him? There were no relatives to care for him. All of Dudley's grandparents had passed away before he was born, and Vernon's sister Marge had died four years ago. Their chauffeur at the time had picked her up to bring her to their estate, but a skidding lorry on the motorway had thwarted those plans. That had not been a nice Christmas for her poor Dudley.

_Tap-tap-tap_

No, these last movements of her hands had been too harsh. She had put more wrinkles into the bedspread in her distress than she had smoothed out. With more care, she repeated the process. Where would Dudley spend this Christmas? Petunia still remembered all too well, how they had dealt with all that Marge had left behind. Like the dogs – they had quickly found a buyer for all of them they could sell, then they unloaded the dirty creature Ripper on the indignant Colonel Fubster, and the rest they dropped off at the animal pound. Who would want to have Dudley? She had no more friends; even contact with Yvonne had broken off because she no longer fit into the circles in which Petunia moved. And the fact was that none of her new 'girlfriends' would look after the child of a now destitute couple, of that, Petunia was completely sure. Useless floozies, the lot of them. Barely capable of pouring tea for themselves. None of them could have made her bed as perfectly as Petunia had just done. Satisfied, she stood up and rubbed her aching back.

_Tap-tap-tap_

Would they take her son to an orphanage? And then what? These freaks had taken everything from them. They would certainly not pay school fees for Smelting. Dudley would not receive the education that corresponded to his talents. He would have to work his way up to the top from the lowest levels as his father had once done. And like he would do it still, if he hadn't be talked into dangerous ideas by smooth talking operators. Honest work - that was the key to success. Carefully she put the wooden chair at a ninety degree angle to the wood table and sat down.

_Tap-tap-tap_

She had warned him. She had warned Vernon that he shouldn't trust one of them. In fact, the further they stayed away from this world the better. But had that idiot listened to her? No, as usual, Vernon always thought he knew better. Petunia clenched her hands in rage, but then relaxed them immediately. It was not befitting a lady. And why had she put the chair in this direction? She showed her cold shoulder to this world, indeed, with pleasure, but she did not want to stare at this rainy weather.

_Tap-tap-tap_

She got up, turned her chair around exactly one hundred eighty degrees and sat down again. Her finger glided over the smooth wooden surface of the table and then she examined it sharply with a skilled eye. Clean! Perfectly clean! If only Vernon had been as clean in his business dealings if nothing else. And now she would have to pay the price of his stupidity, although she had done nothing at all wrong. She had always just wanted to take care of her son, as a mother should. She had kept her house clean, but Vernon had brought in dirt.

_Tap-tap-tap_

Dudley, her Diddykins, completely on his own. Virtually parentless at the tender age of twelve. What had he done to deserve such a heavy fate? Was there really no one then who would help her?

_Tap-tap-tap_

… to break that guard's fingers?


	2. In one blow

_AN: This chapter is dedicated to Foria, who answered me a lot of question about the holiday time in english public schools, english Taxis and everything else I could think of. You are getting it a little bit earlier than planned, simply because I posted the German version a little bit early too. _

**

* * *

**

At a blow

"What do you mean? This is a gold card! My account has more than enough money, and even if that weren't the case, I have nearly unlimited credit with the bank!" Dudley protested repeatedly.

"I've already told you: According to my computer your account is closed." The salesclerk was becoming noticeably impatient. "Clear it up with your bank, not with me." She turned her back on Dudley and started to take the goods of the next customer in the queue.

Dudley fumed at the woman, "I'm not finished yet!"

"Oh yes you are!" contradicted a well-built man. "I don't know what your parents were thinking when they gave a gold credit card to a youngster, but apparently they have come to their senses. High time, when I consider your behavior. You're holding up everyone here with your theatrics," he said menacingly, rippling his muscles. "Now leave the nice young woman in peace and move on." An approving murmur was heard.

Dudley would have been only too happy to have shown the impudent chap how wrong he was, however, even though he himself was already almost the size of a teenager at the age of twelve, his pals were not. With such weaklings, he could not intimidate such a large group of adults. Grinding his teeth, Dudley snatched back his credit card and left to the gloating applause of the rest of the customers, but not before 'accidentally' taking a package of chewing gum from the box which stood on the counter.

"Hey, Dud, what's up with our drinks?" asked a boy with rat-like features… the idiot was called Pete Poolpiss or something like that. He wasn't important enough for him to remember his name.

"Buy them yourselves," Dudley snapped at him.

"We'll do it too. Unfortunately you probably can't come with us now to the cinema," Cecil, the second-richest boy in his year and everlasting thorn in Dudley's side, needled triumphantly. "Unless you still have some cash in your pocket."

Of course not. Dudley always paid for everything by credit card, and Cecil knew that full well. He would rather buy something he didn't want at all, to make sure he had more than the minimum needed to charge, than to be caught with bills or coins in his hand. Or he would ask one of his friends to buy it for him. After all, he treated them quite often.

Nevertheless, now they all followed Cecil's example and left him standing alone on the street. Dudley clenched his fists, but he had a rule, never instigate a fight if he wasn't sure he would win. Against Cecil alone he would win with ease, but should the other guys decided to fight on the side of that conceited dandy, then he would not only lose the fight, but he would also lose his supremacy once and for all. If he had learned anything from his father, it was that it's easy to intimidate others, if they're already fully convinced that you're invincible.

With all his might, he kicked one of the trash bins, which were fastened to the street lights everywhere in the market place. A loud clattering sounded as the retaining bolt broke and the trash bin rumbled to the ground. Well, he would show them what they gave up. As soon as his card worked again, he would go to the store and buy the most expensive toy that he could find. And none of them would be allowed to play with it.

But first, he had to return to the boarding school and call his parents. His father would immediately give the bank hell, of that Dudley was sure. Or, maybe not? Last week had been his birthday. Packages had arrived for him (fifty four of the very newest games for his Game Boy and the promise that still another very special gift waited for him at home), but neither his mother nor his father had phoned him. That had been quite all right with him, because he had been left to celebrate in peace.

Only now, it was slowing becoming clear how unusual their behavior was. At the beginning of the school year, his mother had insisted on daily phone calls, until he was able to convince her that they distracted him too much from his studies. She had relented on the condition that he wrote her regularly. And mostly he remembered to smear a couple of lines on a postcard and to mail it. The school secretary reminded him of it whenever she saw him, in the hope of sparing herself another hysterical call with regard to his well-being.

But what if the guy in the store was right? And what if his parents really had decided to teach him a lesson? Dudley knew that he had put in a miserable performance on all his examinations. Although, he himself saw no reason why he should make an effort (after all, he was a rich heir), but if his performance at Smeltings was too bad, then his father would certainly be disappointed. Indeed, he always told him that he didn't want his son to be a common worker, but it was still important to him that Dudley followed in his footsteps. So if he were to be expelled by Smeltings now…

Oh nonsense! Then his father would simply donate a larger sum and fix the matter. And he would certainly not place the blame with his son, but with the teachers. If there was one thing that Dudley could count on, it was the fact that his parents knew exactly how perfect he was. The teachers did not understand that truly rich people should not be loaded down with hard work. And if he learned nothing, then it was their fault, because they taught him nothing.

Dudley signaled to an approaching taxi. Fortunately, he had made provisions for such cases at the beginning of the school year and had transferred a large sum to the account of the school doorman. The money was intended to pay for Dudley's taxi rides. At first, the doorman had shaken his head at the high amount, because he was sure that it would pay for the taxi rides of at least two school years. But now, he shook his head over the fact that the money was nearly exhausted. No wonder, because on the weekend when the students were given permission to walk to the small town nearby, Dudley always returned by taxi in the evening. Run three miles? And uphill? Never!

"The Headmaster has requested that you come to see him as soon as you return," the doorman informed him while he handed money over to the taxi driver. Dudley did not stoop to answer. Foaming at the mouth, he stomped through the hallways of the administration building. His day was getting even worse. First, trouble with the credit card, then Cecil's triumphant posturing, an early return instead of a visit to the cinema, and now the old fogey was trying to order him around. Not him! Yes, he would go, but he'd give the Director hell!

He stormed past the secretary into his office. "You wanted to speak to me, Headmaster?" he said in a deliberately insolent tone.

"Most certainly!" confirmed the Director in an icy voice. "May I introduce: Mrs. McGonagall." Only then did Dudley realize that an older woman was in the office. She wore an old-fashioned costume of tartan plaid and had her hair pinned up in an austere bun. With a critical eye, she scrutinized him over the top edge of her eyeglasses. When he made no effort to welcome her, she commented disapprovingly, "You do not seem to place very much emphasis on behavior here."

"Mr. Dursley is a special case. His parents have completely spoiled him. Such a thing cannot be corrected in one year."

Dudley stared at his Headmaster with an open mouth. How could he dare…?

"Well, from now on he's your problem," continued the Headmaster. Dudley finally regained his voice however it came out whining, "What did you say?"

Now the Headmaster turned to him again. "Mrs. McGonagall works for the Youth Welfare Agency. She has come here to inform us of some changes in your personal circumstances. According to her, your parents have been arrested because of irregularities in their financial transactions. Since their request for bail was rejected, you become, Mr. Dursley, provisionally under the custody of the state."

This time Dudley could not even form words. His vocal chords only managed to push out a squeak.

"Mrs. McGonagall will wait for you here while you pack your things. As it is not expected that your parents will be able to raise the tuition for the next school year, I recommend that you pay careful attention to make sure you leave nothing behind."

Finally, Dudley's brain succeeded in forming a thought. The Headmaster was enjoying this! The bastard was actually _enjoying_ this! Dudley's parents had donated a sum to the school that equaled thirty years of school tuition. But now, since he couldn't expect any more money from this direction, he was treating him like scum! He would not put up with it!

"You cannot do this to me!" Furiously he swept the desk clear and lunged with clenched fists towards the frightened man.

He had only gone one step, when he inexplicably tripped. Then suddenly someone took hold of him by the right wrist, twisted his arm behind his back, and pressed him down to the now empty desk surface.

"I believe it will be better if I help the young man with his packing!" the determined voice of Mrs. McGonagall declared behind his back.

* * *

It was about four hours later when the taxi drove off. Dudley found it a little bit strange that the woman had not come in her own car, but it was all right with him. Certainly not all of his luggage would have fit into a small car, the type which menial clerks such as she probably drove. Instead, the taxi* was a black Limousine, which Dudley felt was befitting his social standing. The driver succeeded (to Dudley's surprise), in packing the entire pile of luggage into the boot. The boot was probably bigger than it looked from the outside. But so much the better, because then he had ample space on the back seat.

To his annoyance, Mrs. McGonagall did not claim the front passenger seat for herself, but took a seat beside him. Dudley was still trying to understand what had happened. When he had woken up that morning, he had still been the heir of an immense property, so why should he be absolutely penniless now? He stared out the window and watched, as his school got smaller and smaller. Would they now send him to a public school? And from now on, where would he live?

"Mrs. McGonagall?" He finally ventured to ask. "Where are we going?"

The elderly lady, who up until now had been observing him in silence, straightened up in her seat as if she had been lying in wait for a battle.

"It's time we clarify something. What do you know about the wizarding world?"

Dudley became nervous. If there was one rule, about which his parents remained strict, it was that magic was a taboo subject. And they also desired that he keep away from strange characters. He scooted as far away from the woman as the space allowed.

"You are not from the welfare agency. My parents were never arrested!"

Although it looked as though his financial future was once again secure, he was more afraid than before. What did this strange woman plan to do with him?

"Be assured that your parents have really been arrested. However, not by the Muggle…" she interrupted herself and rephrased the sentence. "…the_ regular _authorities of their world, and not because of tax evasion. They have committed crimes against the wizarding world for which they must answer."

Dudley snorted contemptuously. "That's ridiculous. My parents would never enter that world, not for any price."

"I did not say that they entered. Only that they knowingly violated our laws. The indictment states child abuse, unlawful restraint, and embezzlement on a grand scale."

"My parents have never abused me!" protested Dudley.

Two critical eyes scrutinized him from top to bottom. "I would not be so sure. But the indictment does not refer you, but to your cousin."

"The Freak?" asked Dudley shocked. Now she gave him a definitely cold look.

"I advise you to no longer use that word, especially in the presence of wizards. Their reactions could be very unpleasant for you. And after what your family did to Mr. Potter, you will already be in a difficult position."

"We took him in when nobody else would have him," Dudley repeated the often heard phrase. "Without us he would have been left on the street."

McGonagall seemed to want to contradict, but instead, she asked a question.

"Mr. Dursley, do you know how your parents earned their money?"

Dudley shrugged. All he knew was that they had enough money that he would never have to work in his life. That was enough for him.

"The money came from advertising contracts, which your parents conducted in the wizarding world in Harry's name. Every penny they spent in recent years rightfully belonged to your cousin."

Did that mean that all his stuff belonged to the Freak? Dudley pulled a face at the thought that he might have even slept in his bed.

"I know. The idea is quite horrible."

Dudley was surprised by her sudden understanding.

"To exploit a child in this manner, and then to grant him just the bare necessities…"

Oh, so that was it. He didn't understand why the old woman was so annoyed. A good businessman always seized good opportunities. But he did not say this out loud.

"…the punishment for them will not be mild indeed. And now, you are more or less parentless."

Was he wrong, or did she sound like she had a little compassion for him? "My parents are still alive."

"But they cannot take care of you as long as they are in prison. Fortunately, Albus Dumbledore has agreed to take in not only Mr. Potter, but you as well. For the moment, he is your guardian, at least until they have finished processing your parents. Then we will see what happens."

Albus Dumbledore... the name seemed familiar to him. Wasn't that the guy made things difficult for his father because of the freak? Because of school and such? And now he wanted to be his guardian?

"And what If I don't agree to it?" inquired Dudley.

"You will like the alternative much less."

* * *

Now that Dudley knew he was in a magical car, he also noticed one or two other noteworthy weird things. For example, at every red light the car was automatically at the beginning of the queue. It also traveled far greater distances than was possible. On the highway, they passed through the villages in seconds.

So fast, that Dudley could not read the signs, so he had no idea where they were when they left the highway. He watched with concern, as the surroundings grew more and more rural and thus became more isolated. Finally, they stopped in front of a rusty gate. Behind it, Dudley could see a ruin, whose dilapidated towers stood out clearly against the bright night sky.

"We are here. Get out, Mr. Dursley."

Dudley didn't think it too bright at all to leave the warm car.

"I'm not getting out! There's nothing here!" he protested.

"We really don't have time for this nonsense!" She then addressed the driver, "If you would be so kind…"

The door beside Dudley swung open, and before he knew how it happened, he found himself on the loamy ground. He swore!

"Come, finally!" instructed McGonagall, who in the meantime had left the car. To his dismay, she had actually touched the rusty gate and it had opened. Just where was he?

"What about my luggage?" he started. "Don't let him take it away!"

"The house elves will look after it."

Dudley did not know what house elves were, but he certainly would not let his luggage out of his sight. He opened the boot, and to his complete surprise, he found... nothing! All of his possessions had disappeared!

"Where are my things?"

"They're probably already in your room. The house elves are inclined to fulfill their tasks quickly and discreetly. Now, if you are finally finished making a spectacle of yourself…" she stepped through the open gate.

Dudley indignantly followed her with unwilling steps. He would have gladly remained stubborn a while longer, but he wanted his stuff back, especially his Game Boy! He could hardly believe that the old hag kept going steadfastly toward the ruin, without observing the warning signs. On the dilapidated stairs, she paused.

"Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Dudley blinked. Where previously there had been a ruin, suddenly up rose a splendid castle. Although the walls looked old, under no circumstances did it look like it was in ruins, and despite its dramatic shape, it was very inviting.

During the entire trek through the corridors, Dudley remained amazed. There were expensive looking wall hangings, gleaming armor, and a myriad of pictures - pictures, whose inhabitants waved to him (sometimes a bit maliciously). Without being quite aware of it, Dudley moved ever more closely to McGonagall.

* * *

Harry had been at Hogwarts approximately one hour. It was everything that he had dreamed of and more. The castle itself had already promised days, or even months, filled with exciting explorations. The lands were so immense that they made the property of the Dursley's looked like the front garden of a row house. And until now, no one had behaved with hostility towards him.

His new guardian, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore (as he introduced himself), proved to be somewhat eccentric, but friendly. He permitted Harry to address him informally by one of his first names (Harry decided on "Albus" because he had already forgotten the other names). He was also greeted very cordially by Snape, and Harry was very relieved, when he heard that he would be taking up his old post as Potions teacher again. If he remained nearby, he would watch out for Harry.

He was less happy when he found out that Dudley would be living with him. He had hoped to never have to see that fat despot again. He was sure his cousin would find a way to make his new life as difficult as possible.

"Ah," said Albus suddenly. "Minerva has finally arrived."

The door opened and a strict looking older woman entered. Behind her, Dudley gasped as he entered the room.

"Harry, this is Professor McGonagall. She is the head of Gryffindor House."

Harry jumped up and gave her his hand.

"Please to meet you," he said politely.

"The pleasure is all mine," she assured him.

"Hello Dudley!" Harry then said, far less enthusiastically, and only out of politeness. He received no answer.

"Were there problems? You're late," inquired Albus.

"Nothing important, Mr. Dursley was not at the boarding school when I arrived, and the packing took longer than expected."

"Mr. Dursley, I already offered to your cousin to call me by one of my first names. If you would like, you may do also."

Dudley wheezed several times in and out before he had enough air to respond. "I would prefer not to."

Harry had to suppress a triumphant grin. Dudley might believe that he had shown pride, but in reality he had only sounded like a defiant child, he had even refused a privilege that Harry alone was now allowed to use.

"As you wish. Now, you have just put a long journey behind you. How would it be if you rested first of all? Your room can be found if you simply go up the stairs. Harry, you will certainly also want to see your room, correct?"

Actually, Harry was not particularly keen to leave the room along with Dudley, but he was curious about his new accommodations. Hence, he nodded and quickly rushed up the stairs. A small lead over Dudley would surely be an advantage.

He reached another tower room, which based on the curvature of the wall, measured greater than the one he had just left. If it hadn't been for the bulge caused by the roundness on one wall, than the space would have been exactly triangular. Right in the middle of the room was a round table with four chairs. The curved wall was covered from top to bottom with crowded bookshelves, interrupted by three large windows. Below each window was a purple and green upholstered bench. Along one straight wall there were two doors, between which was a large fireplace. On the other side were a door and the opening to the staircase, which he had just come up. The two doors at right angles both had nameplates. 'Dudley' was on the one on the side the stairs and 'Harry' was on the one on the side of the fireplace. Relieved that he had a private room, Harry stepped through the door.

The room behind it was a little disappointing, because it was almost completely empty. The only decoration on the stone walls was a painting, which showed a lion, dozing on a rock, alone in the steppe. There were also built-in bookshelves and a bench under the panoramic window, however, there was no cushion on it and the shelves were completely empty. A very used looking wooden desk, along with a wooden chair, stood in the corner. Only the big bed promised a little luxury. Harry's suitcase, which stood beside the bureau at the foot of the bed, reconciled to him that the bare-looking room was his.

Beside the desk was another door, through which Harry now ventured to look. Behind it was a bathroom that was more luxurious than anything that Harry had had up until now. The iridescent tiles were painted with large aquatic plants, among which fish, sea horses, and a few things that Harry could not identify, cavorted about in the truest sense of the word. Seeing another door opposite him, led him to suspect that he would have to share this paradise with Dudley, but the idea of being able to use such a large shower (with a shower attachment!), made his heart beat faster. There were two identical sinks, and over each hung its own mirror. Harry went up to the nearest one and turned on the tap, as he had hoped - warm water! In the last few weeks, he had learned to appreciate not having to shiver under an icy cold blast.

Far less disappointed he returned to his room and opened his suitcase. Once he took some of his books out and put them on the shelves, the room certainly wouldn't look so bleak any longer. He had just taken the first stack of school books in his hands when Dudley stepped through the bathroom door into his room.

"They don't really expect me to share a bathroom with you, do they?"

Harry observed Dudley distrustfully. His cousin sauntered through his room and touched everything he came to with his fingers.

"At least your room is exactly like my hovel. Well, you're not accustomed to anything better, but for me, it's hardly reasonable, is it?"

Harry refused to comment on this statement. In his view, a pigsty was adequate accommodations for his greedy cousin. Meanwhile Dudley directed his piggy eyes with full attention onto Harry.

"You probably think that you're better than me now, right?"

"I just think that you should be unpacking your suitcase." Harry replied and turned toward the shelves to ostentatiously put away his books.

That was a mistake! He should not have turned his back on his cousin. Dudley grabbed him painfully by the wrist and swung him around again. The books clattered to the ground.

"This is entirely your fault! I don't know what lies you've told to get my parents into trouble…"

"Lies?" Harry interrupted him. "I didn't have to lie. I didn't have to say a word."

Dudley seemed totally surprised that Harry had dared to interrupt him, but he quickly caught himself. "You're to blame that they're sitting in prison!"

"They did that to themselves. They're the ones who embezzled my money. And do you know what? They would have probably even got away with it, if they had just treated me decently. No one would have cared how much money went into their own pockets, if they hadn't been so stupid and greedy."

"We'll see!" Dudley hissed and raised his clenched fist.

* * *

Once Severus was sure that the two boys were no longer within earshot, he turned to Albus, "Is that wise? A Muggle in Hogwarts – especially that Muggle – he will make nothing but trouble."

"What else would you suggest? The wizarding world bears some responsibility towards this child. In an orphanage, he would not be in safe hands. There he would be an easy target, for both fanatical Harry Potter fans who want to avenge him, and also for the followers of Voldemort.

"Nevertheless, couldn't we find a nice, discreet married couple who would take the boy?" Minerva objected to Severus's surprise. He would not have thought that she would be on his side of this argument.

"Perhaps, but his presence here does have some advantages. Lily Potter's blood also flows in Dudley's veins. Through him, we can re-establish the blood wards here in the castle, and thereby provide security for both of the boys."

"Is that the real reason why you feel Mr. Dursley should stay her during the school year?" asked Minerva. "To strengthen the magic charms again?"

"A year here will certainly do Mr. Dursley no harm. His school performance leaves much to be desired. I will procure a good tutor for him who will help him to fill in the gaps of his knowledge."

Severus frowned. So first and foremost it was about the blood wards. This surprised Severus less than the fact that Albus barely made the effort to hide his true motivation.

"It would also be good," continued the Headmaster, "if the two boys developed a closer family relationship. That would strengthen the protection."

Aha, so that was why he sent for him, he wanted him to play babysitter to the two monsters so that they would get along together. Well forget it! Potter alone was halfway bearable, but he would not deal with his spoilt brat of a cousin.

Minerva sighed. "After recent events we cannot be too careful," she conceded to Dumbledore.

Severus became alert. "What events? Is it about the dead unicorns?"

"Among other things, have you read the Quibbler?"

Severus turned up his nose. "The nonsense in the Daily Prophet is already questionable enough; I will not waste my time on that other rag."

"This time Xenophilius was rather close to the truth with his theory, although Quirrell was not attacked by wrackspurts, but by Voldemort. He nearly succeeded in stealing the Philosopher's Stone."

Severus became weak in the knees at the image of what the Dark Lord could have done with the Philosopher's Stone. To hide his weakness he sat down in the nearest chair.

"He overcame all the traps?" And he had been so proud of his idea.

"All, except for the last one, fortunately, the mirror of Erised proved to be an insurmountable obstacle. I returned immediately when my detector signaled me that someone was trying to steal the stone, but if he had overcome the mirror with the same ease of the other traps, then I would have come too late."

"And you killed Quirrel?"

"No, when Voldemort sensed my arrival, he fled and left the body of his underling behind to die."

"And what happened to the stone?"

Dumbledore regarded him seriously.

"What I reveal now, cannot leave these walls. I have scattered the rumor that I destroyed the stone. Nikolas has taken a stock of the elixir and has gone into hiding. Actually, the stone is still in the mirror. Nikolas feels that since it is such a safe hiding place that the stone can easily be left there. I dismantled the other traps in order to support the illusion that the stone was destroyed, and I moved the mirror to another, safer place. Hopefully it will be enough to dissuade Voldemort from looking for it any further."

Severus did not fail to feel a little pride. Here he was, a spy, a former Death Eater, but Dumbledore trusted him with this important information. Although, he did wish the headmaster wouldn't use the name of the Dark Lord in such a casual way. He was just about to ask him a question, when suddenly a magnificent lion ran into a painting next to the ones of former headmasters, and caused turmoil by roaring loudly. In one fluent movement, Dumbledore rose from his chair.

"Harry is in danger," he explained and went in the direction of his room, with his wand pulled out. Both teachers followed his example. Severus could not believe it. Scarcely had he brought Harry to the castle and already he was in danger. Watching the boy was a full time job.

The scene, which they came upon as they entered Harry's bedroom was not what they had expected. Severus had naturally assumed that his heavily-built cousin was responsible for the alarm, but he had not expected that the said cousin would be crouching pitifully on the floor holding a bloody nose.

* * *

Harry stared half disbelievingly, and half self-satisfied, at his bleeding cousin. He could hardly believe that he had succeeded in defending himself against his attack. Dudley had probably not counted on that he, who had fled from him for many years, would strike back. But Harry had no time to relish in his triumph. After the initial surprise, and as soon as the worst of the pain had vanished, Dudley's eyes sparked with rage. Harry raised his fists. In the next attack, he would not get away so easily, but he would put up a good fight.

Steps sounded, and Dudley quickly changed his tactics. Already half way to his feet, he sank back to the floor whimpering.

"He hit me!" he whined as soon as he saw the adults, who rushed into the room with wands raised.

Harry ducked his head. He knew that he would now receive the blame for the situation, and his new guardian would not have a nice impression of him. As usual, Dudley had ruined everything.

"Unfortunate," said Snape dryly. Harry ventured a quick glance at his face and relaxed a little. Snape was sometimes excessively severe, but this time his austere look was not directed towards Harry.

However, the sarcasm was lost on Dudley, who wailed even louder.

"Stop that infernal howling! You will not die of a bloody nose!" Professor McGonagall stated then. Surprised by the unexpected reaction, Dudley actually grew silent. She stepped forward and examined the injury. "Nothing is broken." She pulled out her wand, and unmoved by Dudley's obvious fear, she spoke a charm and the blood disappeared.

"Sneaky!" Snape called. A strange creature with bat ears appeared, dressed in a leather cloth, on which the Hogwart's emblem was embroidered. Dudley stifled a cry, but Harry regarded the creature with undisguised interest.

"Oh, Master is back! What can Sneaky do for him?" The being looked very tired. Snape threw a questioning glance to the headmaster who just shrugged.

"Your replacement has been enjoying the convenience of having a lab and a house elf available quite a lot. Sneaky has spent the last three days re-organizing the lab, the ingredient cupboards, and the potion shelves, over again up to your standards."

"Sneaky, get me my tin of salve for healing bruises. Provided, that in my absence, something useful has been brewed."

Harry felt slightly betrayed. Dudley was not seriously injured. His nose already looked completely normal again.

Before anybody could do or say anything, Sneaky returned again.

"Here, Mr. Potions Master, Sir!"

"Thank you Sneaky! And you can take your time with my lab. I won't return to it for about three weeks."

Harry's heart sank. Was Snape really going to leave him here alone? Was it his fault? He stared at the ground.

He then looked up surprised, when long tapered fingers lifted his wrist and carefully applied ointment to the spreading blue marks that Dudley had left there. Snape's hand moved gently back and forth. Contented, Harry did not make a sound, and satisfied, Snape nodded.

"Now that all the injuries are taken care of, I must say that I am very disappointed," Albus said then.

"But he has…," protested Dudley.

"I do not want to hear it, Mr. Dursley. Fights are forbidden in this school, and I will certainly not permit my wards to ignore the rules. You are both to remain in your rooms tonight. I do not want to see either of your faces before tomorrow morning.

"But…," continued Dudley once again.

"Must I personally escort you to your room?" inquired Albus. Dudley fumed inside, but was clever enough not to let it show. Furiously he stomped out.

Snape screwed shut the little ointment container again. "If that is all, I would be happy to retire."

"Certainly! We can discuss things further tomorrow."

Harry was relieved. At least Snape was not immediately departing.

"Harry, the house elves will bring you up something to eat later. We'll see you at breakfast. Sleep well!"

"Thanks, S… I mean… good night!"

Shortly after, Harry was alone. He could hardly believe his luck. For the first time no one sided with Dudley against him. The punishment was not worth mentioning, and he even got something to eat. He could use the time well by finishing the unpacking his things. He anticipated that the next few months would be the best of his life.

_

* * *

_

Note: *In England, there are not uniform rules regarding the appearance of taxis. They are identified only by the taxi sign on the roof. It is therefore not surprising that Dudley is not suspicious at first by the appearance of the car.


	3. A new world

_Well, looks like I can forget my update schedule__ (RL is merciless)…but I will write when I can and update as fast as possible. Meanwhile, I have a request to my reviewers: As I said before I am not interested in the number of reviews I get but in the critic. It is not necessary to send me a "Well done!" in addition to putting me on a favorite or alert list…that you are interested at all is "Well done!" enough for me. But I am always getting confused when I suddenly have lots of alerts and favorite messages in my mail box, although I didn't update the ff recently. So if you know the reason for the sudden influx (like a recommendation which someone made somewhere) please drop me a line and tell me. _

_This chapter is dedicated to Medialuna, who is the best "plot beta" I can wish for. _

**

* * *

**

A New World

The next morning, Harry was rested and in good spirits. In spite of the punishment, he had received a lavish meal the evening before. His new bed was even larger and more comfortable than the one in which he had slept for the last few weeks, and a hundred times better than the worn matters, in his old room on the Dursley property. The big windows not only let in a lot of light, they offered him an incredible view over the lands of Hogwarts.

Since nothing could be heard stirring from Dudley's room, Harry was able to use the bathroom in complete peace. With a feeling of security, this morning he allowed himself the longest shower of his life, because he had never before enjoyed the pleasure of massaging jets. With the selection of his clothing, he took his time, too. He wanted to continue to make a good impression, after all. Clean and dressed in his best robes, he stood indecisively for quite a while before his bedroom door. Was it really all right if he went out? Albus had said that he would breakfast with him, but he had not mentioned at what time.

Finally, he collected his courage and opened the door. The image, which presented itself to him now, was the most peculiar that he had ever seen. The Headmaster sat dressed in a flowered dressing gown at the table, on his feet a couple of slippers that looked like large bumblebees. His hair, including his beard, was twisted into long braids, which were decorated with multicolored ribbons.

"Ah, good morning, Harry. Did you sleep well?"

The question was so normal, that it took Harry completely by surprise. He had expected something crazier.

"Yes… extremely well."

Hesitantly, Harry sat down at the table, and then it occurred to him that he had not been particularly polite, so he quickly said "Good morning!"

"Well, it looks as though Mr. Dursley still wants to sleep for a while. I think we shall begin without him."

Harry just agreed, since he knew only too well that Dudley never got out of bed before eleven, if someone didn't force him to. He waited until Albus had taken something, then he also dove in. For awhile they ate in silence, but Harry had the impression that Albus was only waiting for him to ask a question. This was a new experience for him, because Midas was the only one before who had ever allowed him to ask questions.

And for answers, he had received a bunch of lies. Perhaps it was about time to find some truths. Thanks to Snape, he knew about his notoriety as the 'boy-who-lived' and about the crimes of the Dursleys, but to him it was as if each answer he had received so far, raised at least two new questions. Where should he start?

"Why are you my guardian now, s...Albus?" he finally burst out.

"Because I have shown a keen interest in your well-being for a long time now. Did Professor Snape tell you that I have fought for years to prevent the advertising campaigns with you?"

"Yes, but he did not explain why. And he said that you yourself brought me to the Dursleys."

Albus took a sip of coffee before he started to explain. "Twelve years ago I helped your parents to hide themselves from Voldemort. It was a very uncertain time. The Ministry had been infiltrated by Voldemort's Death Eaters, and it was only a question of time before the Minister would be overthrown. And then abruptly, everything was over. Voldemort was defeated, and without him, his terrorist network fell apart. While the wizarding world celebrated, the Death Eaters had suddenly lost everything. Some fled. Others returned quietly to their own lives. But some fanatics led a few last attacks. In the early days, there was complete chaos. It took weeks before the Ministry prevailed in restoring order, and then only a few Death Eaters were ever made accountable for their actions."

So far, Harry had been listening silently, although he did not understand completely what it had to do with his question. But now indignation spread through him.

"They didn't try to bring the murderer's to justice?"

Albus smiled knowingly.

"During the first six months, the Wizengamot was occupied solely with Death Eater trials. Afterwards, the general need for revenge had been satisfied overall. People just wanted to forget and move on with their lives. The fact that many wizards felt guilty, because out of fear they provided services to Death Eaters or had refrained from lending assistance, certainly also played a role. Ultimately, only Voldemort's most fanatical supporters were condemned."

Harry nodded understandingly.

"But what does that have to do…"

"… with your question? Imagine the situation. The Ministry was barely able to maintain order, vengeful Death Eaters were still allowed to roam free, and now I had to decide what should happen with you. I knew that if the Ministry should interfere, it would be impossible to foretell with which family you would be placed. Your relatives were in more than one regard the best solution, even if I had my doubts. That is why as a precaution, I placed someone in the neighborhood to keep an eye on you. The reports that I received, were not promising. But I thought, better to be safe and secure, even if it was in a loveless home."

"But what security could the Dursleys offer that wizards couldn't?" contradicted Harry.

"Never underestimate the power of blood wards. As long as you lived in Petunia's home, neither Voldemort nor his followers could come close to you. However, I had not expected that a wizard would show a completely different kind of dangerous interest in you."

Harry listened tensely as Dumbledore told him of the custody dispute, and how he had finally succeeded in infiltrating Snape into the mansion, and how in the end, he had recognized the full extent of the Dursley's crimes.

"I ensured that during the examination, that you were asked the right questions, in the hope that the truth would come to light. And then I used my influence to obtain guardianship. It was the only way to make sure that you would end up in good hands."

Harry hoped and prayed that the old wizard spoke the truth and that he had no ulterior motives. But he supposed, that in any case, he was better off under his protection than that of the Ministry.

"And Dudley?"

"Dudley can also well use the protection of these walls. He has a difficult time ahead of him."

That was something to which Harry still had to grow accustomed. Dudley had always been the lucky child, the one who had everything. And suddenly, it was just the opposite. He, Harry, was rich and famous, and Dudley had lost everything. He almost felt pity for his cousin.

What did Albus think about Dudley? Still more importantly, what did he think about himself? So as unobtrusively as possible, he observed the eccentric appearance before him. Albus looked harmless and seemed nice, but Midas had been no different

"Do you have any more questions?"

Hundreds, but the question that Harry finally blurted out was: "Why do you have ribbons in your beard?"

Albus chuckled. "Have you any idea how long I would have to comb every morning if I did not braid my hair? I will loosen the plaits… if you want, you can help me. And we can also talk about your room."

"My room?" Harry asked confused.

"Naturally… the walls and the floor are still completely bare. And you must tell me what fabric your canopy should be… and the curtains. I have some samples here which you can look at."

Harry was speechless. He had thought that his room was bare because Albus didn't want to spend too much money, it he wasn't going to remain with him very long. But if he was allowing him to select even parts of the décor, than this was more than just temporary accommodations. He beamed. His time at Hogwarts was starting out promisingly.

* * *

In the morning (or rather noon), Dudley was bleary-eyed and bad-tempered. No wonder, since his first night at Hogwarts had been hell. A meager dinner (Dudley was used to at least three second helpings), a sore foot (which he got while kicking against the closed door), and the worst of all: no toys. Neither his GameBoy, nor his Walkman, nor his mini-television worked. And for this useless clutter he had left his supply of candy behind?

Frustrated, he had sulked in his room. He had noticed that it had been furnished exactly like that of the Freak. The small traces of magic had also not escaped his notice, like the tallow candles on his bedside table, which illuminated the whole room as bright as day, or the very much alive-looking paintings on the wall. On his, a rhinoceros was illustrated. For want of a television, Dudley had stared at it for hours, even if the 'program' had turned out to be extremely boring.

It was morning before he had dozed off completely exhausted. The thought of a future without his parents was scary to him, and the idea of having to live in the midst of vindictive wizards, even more so. And then there was still the need to take revenge on his cousin.

As Dudley drug himself out of bed, he realized that he had made a mistake the previous evening, behaving in such an unfriendly way. If he had been somewhat friendlier, the he certainly would have been able to persuade the old man to only punish the Freak. He had to find a way to get Dumbledore on his side… then he would be able to not only revenge himself, but it was also the best method of protecting his own future.

But first of all, it was a matter of ingratiating himself a little. So, he put on his best clothes, resolved to show his best behavior, and forced a smile on his face as he stepped from his room.

The smile froze on his face. The Freak had gotten there before him! He and Dumbledore sat under a window, so close together that he was practically sitting on the old man's lap, and they were leafing through a book. Dumbledore looked up.

"Good morning, Mr. Dursley. Or rather good day, I fear you are too late for breakfast, but lunch is ready anyway."

"Good morning!" Dudley said more or less politely. For a moment, he didn't know what else he should say, and then he asked, "Is that an interesting book?" He stepped a little bit closer.

"This is only a list of fabric patterns. We have just decided on how Harry's room should look. After lunch, you may also look through it and choose something." He snapped the book shut and got up. "I will change my clothes quickly and then we can go to lunch together."

At least the latter was good news. And, if Dudley thought about it, the first was as well. This dressing gown, and above all, those slippers… simply embarrassing.

His fingers itched to use the opportunity to polish off the Freak. But that would certainly only get him into trouble again. So the two boys were reduced to staring at each other with malicious glares, until Dumbledore returned. Together they descended the stairs, but after only six steps, Dumbledore stopped. He looked at a round glass disc, which was attached to the stone wall. A labyrinth of golden lines was burnt into it, and it pulsated in an even steady rhythm.

"It looks as though the corridor is ready," commented Dumbledore as he removed the object. "Now pay close attention!" He tapped three stones lightly with his finger and quiet 'ping' noises sounded. Then the wall opened before them and revealed a stone spiral staircase. The corridor was very narrow, so narrow, that Dudley just barely fit through, but fortunately, it was not very long. After about six spirals, they reached a round opening. Dudley looked around and found to his astonishment that they were in one of the corridors near the main entrance through which he had entered the evening before. But that was impossible! They had only come back down a very short distance on the stairs.

"I am still looking for a portrait which will guard the entrance for you," explained Dumbledore.

"The corridor was put in especially for us?" asked the Freak with irritating enthusiasm.

"Well, I thought that it would be better, if you didn't have to go through my office every time you wanted to return to your rooms. And it looks as though Hogwarts was particularly good to you. The Great Hall is directly around the corner."

Dudley had believed, that after this casual disregard for the laws of nature, not much could surprise him, however as soon as he entered the 'Great Hall', he knew better. Wizards were crazy! Why build such a big hall and then forget the ceiling?

"This is not the real sky. The ceiling is only enchanted so that it looks like the real sky. Fortunately, it is not too realistic, otherwise we would have spend half of autumn eating with umbrellas in our hands."

Harry giggled and Dudley managed dutiful a sort of laugh. The illusion, was so convincing, it was frightening.

"You may eat with us at the teacher's table. Most of the teachers have already departed," explained Dumbledore.

Indeed, only three people sat at the table: Mrs. McGonagall, another woman (small, plump, with untidy gray hair and shabby looking clothes) and a man (muscular, tanned, leathery-looking skin and close-cropped gray hair).

"You already know professor McGonagall. This is Professor Sprout; she teaches Herbology and is the head of Hufflepuff…"

Dudley had no idea what Hufflepuff meant, but obviously, Herbology had a lot to do with gardening. In any event, he noticed dirt under her fingernails as the small woman offered him her hand. He touched it very unwillingly, but she did not seem to notice.

"… and this is Professor Kettleburn. He teaches Care of Magical Creatures."

This time Dudley twitched, frightened of the offered hand, because it had no index finger. In the place where it should actually be, was only a smooth stub.

"Don't worry, little boy," said Professor Kettleburn with a grating voice, "it isn't contagious. I had once an unfortunate encounter with a bad-tempered Dugbog."

Unlike himself, the Freak hesitated only briefly before he shook the offered hand. Dudley observed that his face twisted lightly with pain. The grip of the man was probably quite strong. Then the Freak asked, "Where is Professor Snape?"

"He departed this morning," explained Professor Sprout. "His shift starts in early August."

Dudley was relieved. Snape's whole appearance made him afraid. His cousin, however, sounded very much disappointed as he repeated, "Shift?"

"The plants in the greenhouses must also be tended to during the holidays, particularly in greenhouses three, four, and five. The plants there do not get along well with house elves. Therefore, it is customary for the teachers of Herbology and Potions, the school nurse, and the Keeper of the Grounds, to each spend part of the holidays here. I normally take over the first shift, so that I can prepare the plants so that the others have less work later. Professor Snape has the third shift this year.

"That's why I'm still at Hogwarts," continued Professor Kettleburn, partially addressing Dumbledore. "There have been some cases of illness among the animals, and Hagrid must take over supervising the greenhouses in two weeks. He can use the extra hand this year, even if he has a different opinion."

Dudley now regarded this Hagrid as an idiot. If somebody offered his help, then you should take the opportunity to shift as much as possible onto him.

"Ah, there he is!"

An enormous man stepped into the hall and trudged towards them. Dudley hastily made a step to the side, so that Dumbledore now stood protectively in front of him. However, he remained completely quiet.

"Harry, you already know Hagrid. Mr. Dursley, may I present to you Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Grounds or Hogwarts?"

The big man seemed to stand up even taller with the mention of the title. He held out his paw to Dudley, but he didn't move to take it. After all, he didn't want his fingers to be crushed.

Hagrid didn't seem to be disturbed, he just shrugged his shoulders and let him arm drop.

"Pleased to meet ya… shame I couldn'a brung you over the lake yesterday as well… but it 'twas a might unclear to me when you'd be arriving."

Dudley preferred to say nothing. Even if he were annoyed at the fact that he had been deprived of something, the idea of sitting alone in a boat with a giant, was not particularly tempting anyway.

All in all, he was generally not particularly impressed by the wizards, and that did not change during the course of the meal either. He mainly remained silent and listened, shoveling himself full of dessert at the earliest opportunity. Mostly, he couldn't really follow exactly where the conversation went, but the understood enough to realize it was just basically everyday topics. For example, Professor Sprout spoke long and wide about a plant with a peculiar name.

The conversation between Hagrid and Kettleburn aroused concern in him. They were saying that the forest surrounding the castle was filled with dangerous beasts, and that was why the students were strictly forbidden from entering it. For the first time in his life, Dudley decided to comply with a rule. He would not get within a hundred meters of this forest!

However, the most common theme was 'Harry'. How he liked Hogwarts. Whether he had already looked around. What subjects he might prefer. Dudley had never felt so neglected in his whole life. Not that the opinion of these strange teachers meant anything to him, after all they were just stupid employees. Nevertheless, it did hurt that 'Harry' was so much more interesting.

The teachers gradually said goodbye, but Dudley did not intend to terminate his meal prematurely. Dumbledore watched him patiently while he ate, but when he reached a second time for the pudding, he remarked, "Perhaps it would be appropriate let a little modesty prevail, Mr. Dursley."

"Why? There's enough here," Dudley said simply. He would let nothing and nobody spoil his lunch.

"As you wish. I have things which to attend to. Therefore, I will see you at dinner."

Dudley was not surprised that the Freak interpreted this as an opportunity to leave the table, too. Should he! Sooner or later, Dudley would catch him. But for now, his primary importance was to take precautions, in the event that dinner turned out to be meager again.

He ate until he really could not cram any more into himself. Contentedly, he leaned back in his chair. The food here actually wasn't all that horrible, even if he would have preferred to drink Cola instead of pumpkin juice.

The feeling of contentment did not last long, because now he was again faced with the same problem as the evening before, what should he do with his time? Explore the castle? No! Better not! All that running around would be a lot of work. And a school, which stood on the edge of a forest that was teeming with dangerous creatures, would certainly conceal all sorts of dangers.

So Dudley decided to return to his room. Namely by the shortest way, through the main entrance door to the Great Hall, then straight ahead to the armor with the blue plume and then just around the corner to the left. At least he thought. But the opening was not in this direction. There was not even a corner. Instead, the path lay directly straight ahead.

So back again… maybe it was to the right of the armor… no… that was not the way, because it went down in the opposite direction into the not very inviting looking dungeon. But there was only one suit of armor with a blue plume… perhaps he made a mistake? Which direction had they come from then? Had they not come out right next to the door? Then perhaps it was this way… yes, at least there was a corner.

"Wheeeeeee..." a small man, whose colorful clothes assaulted the eye, especially the orange bow tie and the cap decorated with bells, flew through the wall. When he saw Dudley, he stopped.

"What is this? There is still a student left."

"I-I am not a student." Dudley ventured to correct him.

"No?" The bells clattered when the man flew around him and looked him over from all sides. "But you're the size of one."

As if the guy was any bigger than he was. But Dudley didn't dare say it too loudly.

"But you're twice as wide. Have you possibly gotten lost? The dining room is in the other direction. And the kitchen is one floor below."

"I am not lost!" Dudley proclaimed offended. "I just wanted to return to the tower."

"Oh, then you're looking for the new passage, aren't you? Then you definitely shouldn't go this way."

"Then where should I go?"

"How should I know? I haven't seen the new passageway yet."

"Then how do you know I shouldn't go this way?"

"Because this way is always wrong. Especially when Peeeeeeeeeeeves the Poltergeist is this way!"

The man came at him in a nosedive, his face twisted into a malicious grimace. Before he could catch him, Dudley took off running down the corridor, up the next set of stairs and along another corridor, until he noticed that the poltergeist had not pursued him at all. He rested for a moment before he started on his way back. He would have rather taken a different route, but he didn't want to risk getting even more lost. Cautiously looking around, he went back down the corridor by which he had just come. But what was this? The staircase, which he had just come up, had disappeared.

"Are you lost?"

The question startled Dudley, but this time it was asked by a monk, which was in the painting next to him. He sat leisurely under a tree on a riverbank, nibbling on a chicken leg. On the other side of the river, a chapel could be seen.

"I'm looking for the stairs that I came up," explained Dudley.

"That started on the ground floor? On odd days, those only go upwards. And on even ones, only down. Tomorrow you can find them here." The monk pointed with his chicken leg to the left.

"I can't wait until tomorrow!" Dudley protested. "What floor am I on?" it occurred to him to ask.

"On the fifth. If you want to return to the ground floor again, then you must go along the corridor, past the second turn on the right side, and then down the stairs. Then you will have reached the second floor. Then first turn to the right, and then go back along the corridor to the marble staircase. Down them and you have come again to the ground floor. I would accompany you partway, but I expect a friend. He comes over every day to discuss with me about best way to cross the river."

Whatever. In any event, the monk seemed to be trustworthy, so Dudley followed his directions. The second corridor on the right, the stairs down to the second floor… and then… then… what did the monk say?

Down the corridor… or maybe not? Didn't the monk say something about to the right? Dudley ran a few times back and forth, and eventually he found the marble staircase. Relieved, he started down, when suddenly a terrifying sight emerged before him. A ghost stained with blood from top to bottom! Without hesitating, Dudley turned around, rushed up the stairs and hid in the first room, whose door he could open.

"This is a girl's toilet! You have no business here!"

Dudley spun around frightened. Another ghost! However, this time it was a girl with pigtails and unattractive glasses, which in comparison with the last two apparitions, seemed rather harmless. So (and because he felt unable to change his position again) he dared to protest, "There aren't any girls here anyway. These are the holidays."

"And what am I?" shrieked the ghost.

"Dead?" was Dudley's spontaneous answer.

The spirit burst into tears howling. The howl chilled Dudley to the bone, but it made him even more concerned about something else.

"Uh… how did you die then?" He did not want to end up with the same fate happening to him.

The response was astonishing. Suddenly the tears dried up and the ghost girl coquettishly twisted the end of her pigtail.

"Do you really want to know? Well, it's quite a gruesome story. I died right here. There, in that cubicle. I wanted to be alone, because Olive Hornby had teased me because of my glasses. And then suddenly I heard a voice. A boy's voice and he was making strange sounds. I opened the door to tell him that he had no business here…"

The last words she spoke with such vehemence, that Dudley took a frightened step backwards.

"…and then I was dead."

"Just like that?" Dudley looked around nervously.

"Well, I saw a big yellow pair of eyes. But yes, just like that!"

"And… when was that?"

"No idea! Time doesn't mean much to a ghost. But it was quite a long time ago. Dumbledore was still teaching Transfiguration."

The time reference didn't really help Dudley much, but at least her death didn't seem to be a recent event. The story about the eyes, however, was very scary.

"Are you the youngest ghost here?"

"Well, that depends on how you define young. Cuthbert Binns passed away after me, so theoretically he is the youngest ghost."

More dead students? This was getting worse.

"And how did he die?"

"Oh, nothing special. He died of old age. Sometimes I wonder if he even knows that he's dead. If he ever was alive actually."

Old age? Apparently, he had to ask the question a different way to find out what he really wanted to know.

"Are there other children ghosts here?"

"No, I'm the only one. It surprises me that you have never heard of me. But I should know better. Who cares about miserable, moping, Moaning Myrtle?!"

"I'm not a wizard! I actually still know nothing about the wizarding world," Dudley said quickly, before she burst out crying again.

"Oh, a Muggle? How interesting! It's been decades since I've seen one."

Her obvious interest puffed up Dudley again. At least one person (Creature? Being?), here in the castle found him interesting and not the Freak! Myrtle was a real loser (to be teased and then die on the toilet? Could it get more humiliating?), but still she was ready to listen to him. So he willingly told her of his life as a 'Muggle'.

* * *

After lunch, Harry impulsively decided to first explore the grounds, knowing full well that Dudley, after they had been warned about the dangers of the Forbidden Forest, wouldn't dare to go out of the door. He started out by wandering by the greenhouses and peering in the glass windows. He already knew some of the plants, but most he had only seen in illustrations. He avoided the small hut at the edge of the forest (Albus had mentioned that Mr. Hagrid lived there, and the huge man made him a little scared) and went instead toward the lake. In the daylight, it looked pleasant and idyllic, and in spite of its strange inhabitants, Harry dared to cool his feet in it for a while. Now he just stood admiring the Quidditch field.

He was thinking about getting his Nimbus 2001 from the castle, when he heard a deep voice ring out.

"Well, Harry, have you been looking around a little?

He whirled around frightened. Mr. Hagrid stood behind him, a basket under his arm, which was about the size of a baby's cradle. He nodded nervously.

"How would you like to pop over and come to tea?"

Still nervous, Harry shook his head. "I've just eaten."

"Ah right you are… but maybe you'd like to meet my animals?"

Harry's first impulse was to decline this offer as well. But then he noticed that the dark eyes of the big man looked at him a little sadly. He didn't have the heart to disappoint him. He nodded. "That would be nice, Mr. Hagrid."

"Forget the 'Mister'. Everyone here just calls me Hagrid."

At the door to the hut, they were greeted by a tail-wagging dog. The only dog that Harry had seen up until now, had been Aunt Marge's dog 'Ripper'. She herself had ignored him, like most people, but one afternoon her 'small darling' had hunted him all over the estates, until Midas had saved him. At that time Harry had been five and the dog still almost a puppy, but nevertheless, his teeth had still impressed him.

He stayed cautiously away from the huge dog… he seemed to be friendly. In any case, he didn't growl like Ripper. But Harry didn't want to risk it. Hagrid noticed his uncertainty.

"Don't worry, Fang is harmless. At worst he'll slobber all over you when he greets you."

Harry preferred not to depend on it, and slipped as quickly as possible into the hut. The interior was bigger than the exterior would suggest. Beside the door, a pink umbrella stood in a tall barrel. On one wall was a cabinet with dozens of small and medium sized compartments. Over the enormous fireplace hung a pot, but the fire did not burn. When Hagrid went to the narrow table to put down the basket, he had to bend down slightly, because from the ceiling all sorts of items and herbs hung on silvery threads.

On the windowsill sat a sickly looking owl. Her white plumage had partly fallen our and looked a little disheveled. One of her wings was bound up with a white dressing and a splint. And another bandage wrapped around her body. Harry stepped to her side.

"What happened to her?" he asked.

"Her owner treated her badly. He brought her to school last year and bragged about her. He claimed that she was the best flyer in Hogwarts. Not that he was wrong. She flew to Australia and back for him, just so that little idiot could win a stupid bet. Then something attacked her over the Forbidden Forest and gave her a nasty wound. She was probably too tired to be able to avoid it better. Still she managed to make it to the Great Hall where she fell into her owner's porridge. She was covered him in it from top to bottom, and broke her wing in the process. But instead of looking after her, he only whinged about his mucked up robes, and just left her there."

Harry was horrified.

"After she took flew such a long way for him?" He looked at the owl. "Your owner was pretty stupid, huh?" The owl made a confirming sound. "Ah, you are quite smart, aren't you? At the end you probably fell deliberately into his porridge, as revenge for the long unnecessary flight." Did the owl actually wink at him conspiratorially? "Mmm, I think for me this would have been worth a broken wing, too. May I pet you? I'll be very careful."

To Harry's surprise, she leaned slightly in his direction. With the greatest of care, he stoked her on the head, the only part of her broken body that was not covered by bandages.

"Her name is Duchess," explained Hagrid. Fang made himself at home on Harry's feet, perhaps in the hope of also being petted, but the boy hardly noticed him. For her part, the owl returned his affection by nipping gently at his finger.

"Well, at least he gave her a fitting name. You are a real little lady, aren't you?" Duchess blinked at him angrily and stretched herself a little. "Excuse me, of course, a great lady."

"I have to interrupt you for a minute. It's time to change her dressings."

Harry took a step to the side (and nearly tripped over Fang) then watched as Hagrid removed the dressing around its body. The wound underneath seemed to be really deep.

"Unfortunately, I cannot treat her with magic. Not as long as I don't know exactly what attached her. But the herbs will help."

"What happens when she is healthy again? Does she have to be returned to her owner?"

"Luckily not," growled Hagrid. "Hogwarts rules there are very clear. If a student mistreats his pet, then as punishment it becomes the possession of the school, even if his rich father sits on the school board."

"But if she is a school owl, can't her former owner still use her?"

"It would surprise me if any of the school owls will be willing to deliver something for him in the future. The students may not realize this, but the school owls deliver messages for them because they like to do it, not because they must. Here, hold her for a moment!"

Harry helped Hagrid to fix up Duchess, and then afterwards he was allowed to give her some water and food. He was told all kinds of interesting facts, all about owls, and later about dogs. When Harry left the hut about two hours later, his fear of the big man and his dog had vanished. Counting Duchess, he had three new friends.

Cheerfully, he took a long route on the way back to the castle. This time he went the opposite way, along the wall that surrounded the grounds. However, when he came to the entrance, his good mood evaporated suddenly. The wrought-iron curlicues reminded him of another gate, the one which from his childhood that had blocked him from the outside world. The lock to it had been electronic, and this one was secured with a heavy chain and a padlock. But, did it really make a difference?

* * *

_Note: I am well aware that JK Rowling stated in an interview that Filch was the only one who stayed throughout the summer at Hogwarts. Apart fromthe fact, that I regard interviews only conditionally as Cannon, I think that she had not properly thought the answer through. For the following reasons:_

_1. __Hagrid's hut is described in the books very much like a constant residence. Apart from the holidays, after the fourth year when he travels to the Giants, there is never any indication that he ever left Hogwarts. On the contrary, after the first year he uses the Hogwart's owls to send Harry birthday gifts, and in the first book he had to take the Philosopher's Stone to Hogwarts, in the second book he worried during the holidays about protecting the school garden from flesh-eating slugs, and in the sixth book he says that Hogwarts had been his home since he was thirteen._

_2. As I have shown in this chapter, someone must take care of the greenhouses and the animals. I could imagine that the house elves might take care of the plants, but what about the animals? Apart from plot and technical reasons, I chose to have Snape Sprout and Pomfrey, as the ones to tend to the plants, because they all need plants for their jobs. Hagrid, because I wanted to have four people and since he is the keeper of the grounds, and that must mean something. _

_3. __The letters to the Hogwart's students all arrive during the holidays, so someone must be there to write them. Even if an automatic quill did this, someone would still have to stuff the envelopes and send them. And even if this was also somehow done automatically, there must be someone (precisely: McGonagall) to respond to the questions of the parents of the new students. Because if no one was there, they might not have even known that Harry hadn't replied, or had never received the letters at all. Therefore, I assume that McGonagall remains at the school, at least for the first few weeks of the holidays, until all the letters have been sent and the responses received._

_And yes: Duchess is Hedwig!_


	4. A World upsitedown

_A/N: This Chapter is dedicated to Katharina B., who is acting as my German Beta since "Harry Potter recommends". _

_As you can see, DracaDelirus send me this chapter punkctual for christmas. And since it is already present time in my time zone, you will get it now. Merry Christmas to everyone!_

_

* * *

_

"Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday, dear Harry, Happy Birthday to you!"

Severus had his arms crossed in front of his chest as he looked at the people sitting nearby. Dumbledore sang with evident enthusiasm, just as Hagrid did. Minerva was showing a little more dignity, but even she was beaming all over her face. Only the Dursley-boy wore a sulky expression and muttered more than he sang.

Obviously, Potter had already wrapped all of them around his finger. For Hagrid, this was not surprising, the half-giant liked not only large monsters, but also small ones. And the fact that Dumbledore was behaving like proud grandfather – the old codger had extreme feelings of guilt that he had not been able to protect Potter better. But Minerva? The letters to the new students were sent out long ago, and the introduction of the muggleborns organized, so what was she doing here? Sure, since Dumbledore had taken his time to find a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, (and what had possessed him to hire that idiot Lockhart?), still the book lists had to be sent out, but that would have been done automatically by one of the house elves. Not for a moment did he believe that she had actually shifted her holiday because she wanted to 'finish neglected paperwork'. No, she had remained so that she could be present at the birthday celebration.

He, however, had only come back three days early because he needed his lab, and for no other reason! And he was only participating in this party because Potter had insisted on inviting every inhabitant of the castle! Even Filch, who otherwise always ate in his quarters, had appeared with his cat, along with the house elves who were strung modestly along the back wall, and a veritable sea of ghosts floating around the tables in the hall. In the large frame over the entrance to the hall, so many figures were crowded, that certainly every portrait in the castle was empty. Now that the birthday song had ended, one could hear softly hissed insults from the crowd. "Ouch, that was my foot!", "Don't jostle like that!", and "Quit taking all the room!" were the most innocuous statements. Frustrated, Peeves shouted his more imaginative comments into the great hall from the vestibule.

Dumbledore waved his hand and Peeves' shouts fell silent. Potter didn't even notice. He was too busy trying to blow out the candles on the beautiful cake.

"No wish for you!" announced Dursley triumphantly, when two of the candles were still shining after the first attempt.

"It doesn't matter," said Potter. "I have received more than enough gifts today."

Well, there really weren't that many gifts (thankfully) for once. Ghosts and portraits are unable to bring gifts, for obvious reasons, and the house elves had expressed their delight at the invitation by preparing a very special meal of the most expensive dishes, which surpassed even the annual Christmas dinner. He was almost tempted to invite the house elves on his birthday too. Not that he would ever have a party (an annoying waste of time that would be), but this sinfully expensive shiny silver mooncalf's cheese could even bring him to temptation.

Filch had just showed up empty handed, but Minerva, Hagrid, and he himself (after all, he did know what was proper), had each brought a gift. Together with the two packages contributed by Dumbledore, that made exactly five presents for Potter to unwrap now.

Amazingly, Potter did not immediately reach for the largest parcel on which Hagrid had written his name in clumsy letters or for the two excessively brightly wrapped packages from Dumbledore, but for the gift that Severus himself had brought to him. Well, surely he simply wanted to save the best for last. But at least he appeared appropriately happy about the elegant and practical small box for storing potion's ingredients that he had bought him.

Severus was extremely pleased with himself. He had no illusions over whether or not Potter would still respect his gift, after he unwrapped the remaining junk (the only other one Severus thought capable of a reasonably meaningful gift besides himself, was Minerva). But for the moment, Harry was grateful to him. And unlike that other nonsense, he would use his gift everyday!

Shortly thereafter, Severus realized that he had underestimated both Dumbledore and Minerva. Beneath one of the gaudy wrappings, there was a black Thermorobe. A more practical gift there couldn't be, because these robes always kept the temperature at a comfortable level, regardless of whether it was hot or cold. Minerva, however… Merlin, protect him from Quidditchmaniacs! It was bad enough that Harry had already spent half the summer on the Quidditch field. The boy had hardly ever sat on a broom, and these idiots let him fly unsupervised. And what did Minerva do? She gave him a book entitled "The Trickiest Seeker Maneuvers", so now he could learn more aerial stunts that were dangerous to perform! He already knew what she was up to, and Harry was not even in her house! At least not yet.

Bad enough that last year the house cup had gone to Ravenclaw, at least the Quidditch Cup would not be taken away from Slytherin, of that he was sure. Although… he looked at Harry speculatively… a new seeker might not be bad. Higgs was good, but he was not a natural talent like Harry.

What a thought! He certainly did not want to spend another six years babysitting the boy-who-lived. And for Harry, Slytherin would be a pure viper's nest. Many of the students there came from families who were connected with the Dark Lord. Even though this did not necessarily mean that they would do anything serious about Harry, they certainly would not welcome him with open arms. Even a muggleborn would have it easier there than Harry would.

In the meantime, he had been unwrapping the second package from Dumbledore, which this time contained the expected trinket. The gift was a music box in the form of an iridescent glass ball. In its interior, a phoenix floated over a volcano. If one tapped the ball on the top, lava poured forth over the mountain and the phoenix flew around it trilling an old magician's ballad.

Harry was completely enchanted by the sight and by the music. Severus found it difficult to resist the temptation to drum with his fingers on the table. As if he didn't have anything else to do, but to wait for the boy to unwrap his last gift. Finally, Potter broke loose and turned to the biggest package. Inside was a large bird's cage. Confused, Harry looked at Hagrid.

"This is only meant for travelin'. Yeh can take out the pole."

"But Hagrid, I don't have any pets."

"Yeh do now. Duchess is waitin' fer yeh in me hut."

"But… I thought that Duchess belonged to the school!"

"Hagrid asked to buy her from the school," explained Dumbledore. "I made him a good price."

Then came a nauseating scene full of hugs and stammered words of thanks. Severus noted that in the background the house elves had all disappeared and had taken the gifts with them. Only the music box continued to play on the table before him. The large painting was now almost empty. Filch had stolen out of the Great Hall directly after eating. And Severus seized the opportunity to do the same. In any case, now Potter would only be interested in the owl.

* * *

Someone else also left the Great Hall. Dudley had had enough. It was unbearable, all that fuss over the Freak! Even Myrtle had only had eyes for him. Just because he had convinced the ghost to keep their friendship secret, that was no call for her to be disloyal towards him. He had expected her to decline the invitation, but no, she had felt awfully flattered. For two days, she had blathered in his ears, about how nice it was that for once someone had thought of the ghosts.

In a fury, he reached the access point to the tower. The opening was covered by a large painting of a young woman who spent her time sitting in front of a dresser. Sometimes she sat there and tried on different bodices, all of which she took out of the drawer (so far as Dudley could remember, up until now she had a different one in her hand every time he saw her with one), but mostly she sat in front of the mirror combing her long black hair. Quickly Dudley looked around. Even though almost all of the castle inhabitants were in the Great Hall, the one he feared the most was outside cavorting around, and was certainly in a bad mood. Dudley had been successful in keeping out of Peeves way, but that did not mean he couldn't just suddenly appear. And for what he was about to do now, he wanted no witnesses.

Everything was quiet. Dudley took a deep breath, and then sang barely legible and as quietly as possible: "This image is enchantingly lovely," damn Dumbledore that he would chose such a stupid guard for their door! But this time, the portrait did not open. Instead, the woman turned around and said, "That's nice, but I look ghastly! In the crush, they completely tangled my hair!"

Naturally, another admirer of the great Harry Potter! He should have known.

"Come on, open the door already! I want in my room."

"Oh, how rude! I should let you stand out here, until you've learned some manners!"

"I said the password, so open the door already."

The Vain Woman threw her hair over her shoulder in a coquettish gesture and turned back to the mirror. "I didn't hear anything."

"This image is enchantingly lovely," Dudley almost yelled. "And now open the door before I get a knife and slash the canvas. Then we'll see how beautiful you still are!"

For a moment, the Vain Woman sat frozen then the portrait swung provocatively slowly aside. Dudley stomped angrily up the stairs. Had everything conspired against him? He stormed into his room and threw himself on the bed. But he couldn't stand it there long! When he had selected the wallpaper and fabrics for his room, only the most expensive ones were good enough for him. However, the most expensive ones were also garish and glitzy. The color combination hurt his eyes, but he was not willing to openly admit it, not after he had laughed at Harry for days because he had stayed modest. But if he was honest with himself, even Myrtles' dilapidated bathroom was a more agreeable place of residence than his own bedroom.

To escape the shrill colors, Dudley finally fled back into the sitting room and dropped down on the bench beneath the front windows. Lost in thought he stared straight ahead, looking closely at the door to Harry's room, which stood ajar. Through the gap, he could catch a glimpse of the grass green carpet, and wallpaper in the style of a meadow landscape. And he saw that on the desk, Harry's gifts were piled up (with the exception of the music box).

Who would give him presents? Who would give a party for him when he had his birthday next year? It was all so wrong! He should be the one who got everything, not the freak! Enraged, he rushed towards the room and opened the door with a vigorous kick. Satisfied, he heard the door slam with a loud bang against the wall, and hoped that it had damaged the wallpaper. Then he let his fury run wild.

* * *

Harry came back late to the tower. He had spent a lot of time with Duchess after dinner. The owl was just as pleased about her new owner as he was about his new pet. He could still hardly believe that this wonderful creature now belonged to him. Together, they had spent hours admiring his new music box, while he gently petted her. Then Hagrid decided to bring him back to the castle.

He greeted Albus, who was sitting in front of the fireplace reading a book, and then opened the door to him room. But what he saw surprised him so much, that he stopped and remained rooted to the spot in the doorway. Unbelievingly, he stared at the chaos before him. The entire floor was covered with scrapes of paper and empty book covers. The covers belonged to the books, which previously had been in the now empty shelves. Someone had completely torn up his bed and its matching canopy. Among the layers of down feathers on the ground were his clothes, in particular his new cloak, which was also torn to shreds. His trunk was undamaged, but that was probably only because of the various protective wards, which were synced only to him. Carefully, Harry put down the music box on his desk and knelt beside the shattered pieces of wood, which used to be Snape's gift.

"Harry? What is… oh my!" Albus had noticed that something was wrong, and he now stood in the room, equally incredulous. Harry affectionately put the pieces of wood beside the lovely music box, and then clenched his fists angrily. "It was that spiteful walrus!" he grumbled, "but he will not get away with it!" He prepared to go off and attack Dudley's room, but Albus held him back.

"No Harry! I know you're angry, but let me settle this. He will not escape unpunished, I promise you."

* * *

It was not easy to calm Harry. Only after Albus had called the house elves and his room was put well in order, was the boy fairly responsive again. He held the newly mended box in his hand. Albus found it difficult to explain to the boy that it was now unsuitable for storing potions ingredients, for the magic that had been used to repair it was now part of the wood, and would ruin any ingredients.

Then he had to convince Harry to leave the punishment of the culprit to him. There was little doubt as to who culprit was, but Albus wanted to first give him the opportunity to defend himself.

"It must have been Peeves!" Dudley claimed five minutes later. "He was pissed because he couldn't attend the party."

Albus shook his head. "Peeves cannot penetrate this tower. Understandably, I cannot allow him access to rage through my office and destroy my valuable instruments. The only ones who may enter this tower are we three, and the house elves."

"It certainly wasn't me!" claimed Dudley. "Maybe a house elf flipped out."

"This has been done by human hands," explained Albus patiently. "I know that it was not I. And I know that Harry, even if he had a reason to destroy his own gifts, did not as he returned late to the tower. Denying it will not help you, Mr. Dursley, and the truth could lessen the punishment."

The boy crossed his arms in front of him and stared defiantly at Albus.

"I have done nothing!" he insisted.

Albus suppressed a sigh. He did not need Legilimens to know that Dudley was lying. Particularly as it had not escaped his notice that from underneath Dudley's shoe a down feather peeped out, which was probably stuck to the sole. This would be so much easier if the boy would show some remorse. Now he would have to be stern, or Dudley would lose all respect for him. And he had to make the boy really think about what he had done.

"You will apologize to Harry. At the beginning of the school year, I would have allowed you pocket money, but now you will not receive any until Christmas, as reparation for the damage that you've done. And you will write an essay in which you will explain to me why we should respect the property of others."

"Sure I will … _not_!"

"Well, as long as I do not have the essay in my hands, you will not leave this room. The house arrest will continue until you have delivered a satisfactory work to me."

Albus left the loudly protesting Dudley alone, and went back to Harry to inform him of his cousin's punishment. Harry was satisfied, but his behavior made it clear that he would not forgive Dudley so quickly. And who could blame him.

Albus could well understand Harry's feelings. He too was once robbed of a gift that he very much appreciated. After his father had ended up in Azkaban, his mother had to be very thrifty with the family fortune. That is why on his eleventh birthday, she had given him his great-grandfather's chessboard. With its carved ivory figures, it was actually much too expensive a gift for a child, but she wanted to give him something special for his eleventh birthday. She also thought that having his own chessboard would be a good way for him to make friends at Hogwarts.

Albus never found out if such an unusual chessboard would have brought him more friends or even envy, because he had used it only once. On his birthday, his mother had taken the time and played against him for hours, until he had fallen asleep in his armchair. She put him to bed, but forgot about the chessboard in the living room. One day later, Ariana had one of her attacks, and the precious gift had fallen victim to her magic.

Albus still had the White Queen (the only figure that had survived the destruction) as a reminder. He remembered exactly how difficult it had been for him to forgive Ariana, and she had not acted with bad intentions. Would Harry be able to forgive Dudley, knowing full well that his actions were nothing but a despicable work of revenge?

* * *

"…and when we enter Gringotts, remember to behave as respectfully as possible. That Grundrok, the Filthy Rich, will speak to us personally is a great honor. If you address him, then use his nickname. Such epithets are awarded to goblins only for special services. To ignore it would be to degrade his achievement. Otherwise, keep to the wizard's rules of politeness. And do not by any means, use goblin specific phrases. To them, we are the inferior beings. They see it as arrogance if we behave like them."

Harry nodded gravely. He could barely believe it. He was on an excursion with Albus, all alone! Dudley was still sulking in his room, refusing to write the essay, so he could not come along. For the first time in his life, Harry was not the one who had to stay behind, and although he had some sympathy for Dudley, he still felt a certain measure of satisfaction.

The long lecture, which Albus was giving him, could not cloud his joy. On the contrary, his anticipation only increased. Financial transactions sounded a lot more interesting if they were done in a bank guarded by goblins. And the fact that he should avoid revealing his identity, made things even more exciting. It was like something out of a spy story.

From the beginning, the trip was as thrilling for Harry as it was scary. The scariest thing of all was the idea of traveling by Floo powder, as it had always made him afraid. And no wonder, after all the horror stories that Midas had told him about it. But Albus explained to him calmly what he had to do, and he landed safely in the "floo-in" at the Leaky Cauldron.

Also frightening were the many wizards (and other figures) where were crowded into the small pub. Harry had never before had to move through such a dense crowd. He feared being crushed at any moment, but Albus steered then both quickly and unobtrusively through the crowd, and led him through the back courtyard and the secret entrance into Diagon Alley.

Harry quickly came to appreciate the general activity that surrounded him. The wizards around him were so preoccupied with themselves, that they didn't notice him at all. Harry wore his hair combed over his forehead, so that it covered his scar. And because of his glasses, his eye color was less conspicuous, so that he was just one of many little boys with tousled hair. This style seemed to be in vogue, because almost every boy he met had hair that stood out wildly from his head. But not that many children were around. When he expressed surprise at it, Albus explained to him that the book lists wouldn't be sent out until the following day, so the annual onslaught of Hogwarts students had not yet begun.

Albus himself naturally attracted attention. There was hardly a wizard who did not greet him, however nobody paid attention to the small boy beside him. But Harry wasn't bothered by it any longer. He enjoyed being able to look around in peace and quiet, and to soak in the diverse impressions that showered him from all sides. It took less than five minutes, before he had already left Albus' side. He was stuck for an eternity to the shop window of Quality Quidditch Supplies admiring the display, while Albus was talking with an excited looking wizard with a purple hat. Harry wasn't the only onlooker who possessed a keen interest in the Nimbus 2001 (after all, he already owned one), but he enjoyed the feeling of doing exactly the same as all the other children. He enjoyed it so much that he didn't notice that Albus had finished his conversation and was patiently waiting for him. Slightly embarrassed, he returned to his side, but only until he discovered a shop selling sweets.

It was only when they reached the impressive staircase of Gringotts that Harry searched for the protective proximity of his adult companion again. He had already read about goblins ("The History of Magic" was finally good for something!), but reading about something and seeing it was two different things.

But as it turned out, financial transactions in goblin's banks were also rather boring. Grundrok, the Filthy Rich, was a small goblin with grayish, wrinkled skin, who spoke extremely quietly. Harry was presented with dozens of papers that he had to sign, with respect to his holdings, but the contents of them meant nothing to him. They informed him about the fact that the assets of his 'dishonorable kin' had been transferred to a new maximum-security vault. The goblins had no doubt that the money would be awarded to him at the completion of the hearings, but in any case, he would only gain access when he was of age. Nevertheless, the end of their visit became exciting when Harry was allowed to ride the roller coaster to visit the vault, which had been left to him by his parents.

"The gold that your parents left you was intended for your education," explained Albus. "I trust that you will handle it responsibly." Harry nodded gravely. He wouldn't squander the gold in any event, for who knew what would happen in the future? At the moment, it looked as if Albus would care for his well-being for the next few years, but even if he did not plan to cheat Harry as Midas had done, a lot could happen in six years. It was better to be prepared for anything.

Harry left Gringotts with pockets full of gold, but it was a long time until he could spend some of it. Albus insisted on paying for him, both in the Apothecary and in Flourish and Blotts. It was his duty as a guardian. Then they strolled through the shops, and Harry bought some owl biscuits for Duchess and a new quill, which was very comfortable to hold.

The visit to Madam Malkin was one long nightmare. The busy owner mistook him for a first year, and even commented that he was 'still very slim for eleven years old'. Harry glared at her.

"I'm not…"

"Do you have this robe in purple?" Albus interrupted her. Distracted Madam Malkin looked around.

"No, but in canary blue."

Harry took a deep breath. He had nearly given himself away. Fortunately, Madam Malkin chose not to comment on his size again. Nevertheless, he was glad when they left her shop, (thankfully without buying the canary blue robe).

Then Albus bought two cones of ice cream at Florean Fortescue's (extra sour lemon and peppermint for Albus, and Pistachio* and Lime for Harry) and then they strolled along companionably while they licked. For quite a while they stood outside the shop of a clockmaker** while Albus explained to him what all the various devices were in the shop window. Harry particularly admired a clock that indicated the lunar cycles.

If Harry had wanted, he could have spent the gold in his pockets three times over. Just the beautiful desk alone, which he discovered in a furniture store, could have easily have emptied his pockets. But he reminded himself to always make sure that the gold was for his education and not for furniture, toys, or novelties. However, he did buy some sweets for himself, and in a small store called _Odd Books_ he was weak and bought a copy of "The Neverending Story". The book was a real bargain, and after he paid, he asked the salesclerk why it was so cheap.

"Because it is completely useless! Such a promising cover, but what's inside? No charms or historical documents, instead just a tangled story by and author whom no one knows. Michael Ende… what a strange name. Perhaps a code name. The scribbling sounds very much like the wild fantasies of a centaur."***

Harry suppressed a grin, and Albus looked very amused, but neither of them cleared it up for the salesclerk. In high spirits, they left the shop.

It could have been the perfect day. However, Harry should have known that it was just too perfect, when nothing had gone wrong yet. Misfortune finally befell him when they were leaving _Wendelin Weavings_. Albus had bought material for a new canopy… a very special fabric. It was printed with stars that moved across the black surface like real stars. If you touched Venus, it even showed their names and statistics. And if you pressed the North Star, the signs of the zodiac were displayed. Harry could barely wait to like in bed and look at this special night sky. He literally hopped out of the store out of sheer excitement … and crashed into an elderly witch with a bulbous nose.

"Be careful my boy! Always watch were you're going, or you will break your … I cannot believe it! Harry Potter!" The last two words she spoke so loudly that several of the bystanders became attentive. Before Harry could even think to react, she had already seized his hand. "Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter. I simply can't believe that I'm meeting you in person." She wanted to say more, but she was pushed aside by a bald wizard, who also eagerly shook his hand and said something. Harry had no idea what, because now wizards were crowding in on him from all sides. Some asked questions, other wanted to introduce themselves and many, far too many, tried to touch him. Harry tried to defend himself, but there were simply too many. He was pushed from one side to the other, and eventually lost his balance.

No! He must not fall! If he fell now, he would certainly be trampled. Desperately he tried to find a way to stop, when suddenly two hands grabbed him around the waist and lifted him up. Harry hit back hard, namely right to the place on the body where he suspected it would hurt the most. A cry of pain confirmed to him that he had connected at least somewhat however, the person's grasp on him did not loosen. Harry kept on struggling, until he recognized the snow-white hair in front of his face. Then he pressed his body to Albus' shoulder and hid his face in his flowing beard.

"Calm yourselves!" roared Albus with a thundering voice that made Harry wince. For about a quarter of a second, it was really quiet, but then the wizards pushed forward again. The news that Harry Potter was present had spread like wildfire through Diagon Alley. And like many fires, the enthusiasm of the wizards could not be contained, not even by the impressive presence of Albus Dumbledore.

"I need to get out of here!" shouted Harry, looking around unsuccessfully for a way out.

"Hold on tight!" Albus instructed him. The next thing Harry knew everything went dark, and he felt all sides pressing violently against him; he could not breath, iron bands squeezed around his chest, his eyeballs were driven into his head; his eardrums were forced into his skull and then – they landed safely at the gates of Hogwarts.****

* * *

_*In the German version I choose woodruff as a flavour, but since then I learned that woodruff flavoured food is a typical German thing, so this got changed in the translation._

_*__*A watchmaker can fix much more than just watches. All types of instruments fall within his field of work. Moreover, watchmakers understand a lot about micro-mechanics. Historically watchmakers were highly honored professionals and pioneers in mechanics. In my mind, all mechanical devices in the wizarding world (from the Lunascope to Albus' complex instruments) are produced by watchmakers. They are, so to speak (in addition the people who make the magic wands), the crème de la crème of craftsmen._

_**__*Odd Books is of course only an invention of mine. It is a store that sells obscure books… but usually not muggle books. However, there were some printed versions of 'The Neverending Story' (If you have only seen the movie: be sure to read the book. The first movie was very well done, but couldn't do the book justice, just as the film versions of Harry Potter didn't either), that looked liked the book in the film (leather-bound with the Auryn symbol on the cover). I am not sure whether the version was also printed in English, but in my imagination, that was the case. Somehow, the book ended up in the estate of a wizard, and because of its 'magical' appearance, no one questioned if it might be a muggle book. But since the author was unknown, and the contents meant nothing to the dealers, the volume finally landed at Odd Books._

_***__*I took the description about apparating almost verbatim from the Half-Blood Prince. You might ask yourselves, why didn't Albus apparate already on the way there. I am assuming that it is forbidden to apparate into Diagon Alley, because the risk is too great that two wizards might materialize at the same time, in the same place. However, leaving Diagon Alley in this manner would not be a problem. _

_IMPORTANT: I recently noticed that someone named wimvicken is offering "Harry Potter recommends" at his forum as HTML. It is my believe that the stories I upload here may be shared whereever people want, since I consider them a present to the public. But it is also my believe, that one should polite about it. I.e it would have been polite to ask me for permission. Then I could have explained that although "Harry Potter recommends" is listed as "complete" here, it is still a WIP for me, since there are still some small things I have to correct as soon as I have the time (like changing "Flummi" to "Bouncy Ball"). Please consider this should you decide to download this. _


	5. A confined world

_AN: This chapter is dedicated to "Kaddei-San" who has been one of my German Betas since I began writing "Dudley Dursley Discovers". _

_**

* * *

**_

Harry Potter Triggers

_** Catastrophe!**_

_**83 Injured in Riot in Diagon Alley!**_

"_Harry Potter!" These two words, spoken by an enthusiastic witch yesterday afternoon at Diagon Alley, resulted in a disaster. Hundreds of wizards, who were in the busy street tried to catch a look at the most famous boy in the wizarding world. In the resulting crush, people were trampled and pushed against the walls of the buildings. Only with difficulty, the summoned Aurors brought the crowd under control. An elderly man was hit by a stunner and fell through a window pane. He and seven others injured were admitted to St. Mungo's, thirty victims suffered minor injuries. Rumors that Harry Potter himself had to be treated have not yet been confirmed._

_A thorough investigation revealed that Harry Potter had spent the whole day in Diagon Alley in the company of none other than Albus Dumbledore. For years, the Headmaster of Hogwarts has left no stone unturned in his bid to received custody of Harry Potter. It looks as though he has finally achieved his goal, although his motives are still questionable. The fact that his first stop with his rich ward was at Gringotts, leads one to doubt his sincerity. _

_Obviously, he is now attempting to buy the affection of the naive child. Almost every shop owner in Diagon Alley remembers having served the shy boy in Dumbledore's company. The number of purchases amounted to 92 items (see page 9 for a complete list), including some questionable objects from Knockturn Alley._

Severus snorted contemptuously and tossed _The Daily Prophet _on the breakfast table. Since Rita Skeeter began working for the newspaper, it had become more and more of a tabloid, barely better than _Witch Weekly_ or _The Quibbler_. Her articles were comparable to a bottle of Veritaserum from a tight-fisted Apothecary: One spare of care and facts, taking only half of the story and filling the rest with speculation and innuendo. What came out did not serve the truth, and at worst was highly toxic.

Even considering how fickle the wizarding world was, Severus did not anticipate that it would give Harry's supposed excursion to Knockturn Alley much attention. The joy that their 'savior' had returned, would outweigh anything else, of that he was sure. Nevertheless, the article had still triggered the first wave of reactions, and had caused some damage. Dumbledore had received indignant letters from the entire school board, all wanting to know why they had not been informed about Harry Potter's presence. The Ministry demanded an explanation as to why no one had requested an escort for the trip. And at the gates of Hogwarts was a whole pack of reporters. Some had even arrived with tents, obviously prepared for a long stay.

Fortunately, such things no longer fell within his area of responsibility. Now it was Dumbledore's job alone to deal with the various large and small disasters, which seemed to follow Potter everywhere. Content with the world, he seized his copy of _'The Practical Potioneer'_ and immersed himself in the article _'Self-Hypnosis Potions: The usefulness of self-deception'_

* * *

Slowly and surely Harry came to hate the corridors of Hogwarts. On such a warm summer day, one should be outdoors, but not if you were a celebrity. Oh no, then you had to hide behind cold walls, while Albus had to strengthen the protective wards around the estate. The first week it had not bothered him to follow that instruction. Up until then, he had always stayed outside during the day, mainly to keep out of Dudley's way. So now, he used the time to explore the castle. Besides, Hagrid had brought Duchess to him. The owl's broken bones and wounds had long since healed, but she was still very weak. Harry took her to the Owlery, because the day before Dudley had given in and had presented a satisfactory essay about the "proper respect for the property other" to Albus.

Harry didn't trust the peace, so he had put everything worth something in a safe place. Most of it was thrown into his suitcase. He was sure that Duchess was smart enough to not let herself be caught by Dudley's brutal hands – if she was healthy. But in her weakened state, she made an easy target. She would be better off hundreds of stair steps away from Dudley.

Unfortunately, Duchess did not see it that way at all. Once they reached the Owlery, she flew with a few weak flaps of her wings to the first perch out of his reach, and turned her back to hurt him.

"Now, don't be that way!" implored Harry. "I don't like the whole thing either!"

Duchess commented on his words with a damp present.

"That was not very ladylike."

Duchess defensively spread her feathers.

"Come on! I also promise that I'm going to fly with you, as soon as you are completely fit again!"

Duchess turned and looked at him sternly.

"Word of honor!"

Duchess uttered a soft cooing, but did not bother to move anywhere near him again. She had not completely forgiven him yet, but still Harry was a little relived as he left the Owlery. Where to now? He had two options: he either remained in the upper floors or went to the dungeons, because Dudley was too lazy to visit the first and too afraid to seek the later. Since he was already up, Harry decided to stay there. In addition, there was a riddle that he intended to solve.

He went down to the fifth floor and walked along a corridor until he came to the long winding staircase, which he had discovered two days earlier. He climbed the stairs until he came to a door that had neither doorknob nor keyhole, but only a bronze knocker in the form of an eagle. Harry operated the knocker. "How big is the universe?"

The first time Harry answered, he tried 'infinite' and was rejected. The second time he had the same results with 'nobody knows'. This time he tried it with an unconventional thinker's answer: 'Eight letters long!'

Again, nothing! Slowly, Harry asked himself if this stupid knocker was only pulling his leg, giving him an unsolvable riddle. What was certain was that he was getting no further with the answer. But he would not give up! Albus had spoken to him that morning, and had placed before him a difficult choice. If behind the door was what Harry suspected, then solving the riddle might help him decide.

But it didn't help him to stand in front of the door and to make guesses out of the blue. So he climbed the stairs back down to the fifth floor and wandered through the hallways. When he passed the door to the Prefect's bathroom, he tried out a new password ('Fizzy Bubbles'), without really counting on the fact that the door would open. As expected, it remained closed, but shortly after he discovered a new staircase, which led him from the east wing to the seventh floor of the north wing. By now, it was noon, so he decided to take the spiral staircase down to the ground floor, because that was the shortest way to the Great Hall (at least the shortest one that he knew about).

He reached for the railing, hopped over the false step, swung around the curve – and almost collided with a woman. He had never seen her before, but the colorful travel bag, which hung over her shoulder, suggested that she lived in the castle and had just arrived.

"Excuse me!" he said quickly. "I didn't expect somebody here."

"That is quite all right, my boy. Nothing happened. The cards warned me of unexpected obstacles. Besides, my inner eye has been honed for the unexpected, so I was able to stop in time."

Harry stared at her with his mouth open. These words from the lips of someone who looked like a florescent dragonfly easily topped all the remarkable moments that he had had up to now in the wizarding world.

"Inner Eye?"

"But of course, how silly of me. I have not yet introduced myself. I always forget that other people are not as insightful as I am! I am Sibyll Trelawney, I teach Divination. And you are Harry Potter!"

Her eyes roamed over his scar, and then she looked into his eyes.

"You must be careful! I see a dark shadow hovering over you. Death follows you on foot," she announced in an ominous voice. Her bangle bracelets jangling as she threw her hands in the air in a dramatic gesture.

"Um… yes…" Harry squeezed past her. "I'm going down now to the Great Hall. Maybe I'll see you there."

"Oh no," Professor Trelawney contradicted to Harry's relief. "I only rarely go into the lower realms of the castle. Only in my tower, can I remain receptive to the vibrations of destiny. Just go your way, but watch your step." Then she fluttered (that was the only way he could describe the movement of the numerous shawls around her) around the corner. Somewhat confused, Harry continued on his way.

* * *

There was only one reason that had made Dudley give up his resistance and to write the essay: he was hungry! A single serving per meal was simply not enough for his demanding stomach. With anticipation, he went into the Great Hall.

The cast at the dining table had changed once again. Professor Kettleburn had returned to the castle, in addition, there was also a woman with an old-fashioned nurse's cap on her head sitting at the table, because she looked less menacing by far, than Snape or Hagrid, Dudley decided to take the place between her and Dumbledore. The Freak appeared shortly after and sat down with a wide grin between Hagrid and Dumbledore. Dudley did his best to ignore him.

Although he focused mainly on his food, he nevertheless noticed that the woman beside him scrutinized him critically when he loaded his plate full.

"So this is Harry Potter's cousin?" she inquired of Dumbledore.

"Yes, this is Dudley Dursley."

"He's overweight!"

These direct words came as such a surprise, that Dudley choked on the piece of beef he was about to swallow down. He sat at the table gasping for air. He barely noticed when the woman pulled out her wand, but suddenly his windpipe was clear again and he breathed deeply.

"You cannot just let the boy gobble down whatever he wants," the woman continued the conversation as if nothing had happened. "If he continues on like this, he will ruin his health. He might even be quite ill already."

"Would you like to examine him?" inquired Dumbledore.

"As soon as possible! And I will speak with the house elves, so that they make sure he takes only normal meals." *

Dudley's day had just taken a very unfortunate turn of events. Despite his protests, he spent the afternoon in the hospital wing, being examined by 'Madame Pomfrey'. He then spent his dinner staring at his emptied plate, which he had eaten clean within minutes. Several times, he tried to take food from the dishes surrounding him, but every time he reached for something, it suddenly moved far away from him. Nothing helped. He only got the food that had appeared at the beginning of the meal on his plate, no more.

"I'm going to starve!" he complained to Myrtle that evening in his grief. However, this time the spirit wasn't that understanding.

"I haven't eaten for decades," exclaimed Myrtle with a mournful demeanor. "What I would give to be able to taste even a piece of chocolate."

Decades without chocolate? Dudley shuddered.

"But you're a ghost. You don't get hungry, right?"

A month ago, after such a remark, Myrtle would have disappeared howling down the drain. However, in the meantime, she had spent so much time with Dudley that now she only sniffled a little.

"No, I don't get hungry. But I miss it anyway. How the chocolate slowly melts in your mouth, the bitter-sweet taste …" her voice was dreamy. Dudley's mouth also watered at the mental image.

It was perhaps not the best idea, but he and Myrtle spent the rest of the evening raving to each other about their favorite foods. When he finally climbed the stairs to his room, his desire for food was greater than ever before. At the same time, he was also a little lighter of heart. Myrtle was such a wretched creature, that in comparison to her, he always felt like a king. He would eventually get out of here, and then could eat as much as he wanted, but she would still be sitting in the girl's toilet crying. She might have been a witch, but he was the one who would someday have a full life.

Inspired by this thought, he opened his door … and let out a scream of rage. There lay his Game Boy, his Walkman, every toy that he owned, smashed on the floor. The wallpaper was splashed with ink, his comic books were only scraps, and amid the chaos, a frightened looking Harry crouched, folding clothes.

"It wasn't me!" he vowed, but Dudley didn't believe a word. His first impulse was to punch him. But then he thought better of it.

"Professor Dumbledore!" he shouted. "Professor Dumbledore!"

Dumbledore, who had still been in his office, came up the stairs.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Dursley?"

"Harry has destroyed my room!"

"I did not! It was a house elf!"

Dudley snorted contemptuously when Harry told a complicated tale about a house elf named Dobby ** who was trying to drive him out of Hogwarts. That same excuse had already not worked for him. Dumbledore certainly would not fall for it. Finally, he had a starting point in which he could edge Harry to be out of favor with the Headmaster!

"That's what happened, Albus, really!"

"Calm down Harry, I believe you!"

What?

* * *

Harry took Dobby's warning more seriously than he was willing to admit. After all, this was the second warning that he had received in one day. Maybe a mortal peril really did lurk in wait for him. Even if the only danger that he could see at the moment was Dudley.

Contrary to Albus, Dudley hadn't believed his story. Now Harry was doubly careful about where he went. So far, he had managed to keep out of his vengeful cousin's way. Fortunately, Dudley did not dare to undertake anything in Albus' proximity, or he would have certainly had already gotten a nocturnal visit from him.

However, he did receive another kind of nighttime visitor. Four days after the incident with Dobby, Duchess flew in through the window. Harry beamed.

"There you are, my girl, in perfect heath again!"

Duchess gave an approving sound, turned a lap around Harry's head, landed on his window sill, and then looked at him invitingly.

"I know what I promised. But can you wait a little? Albus said that the protective wards will be ready the day after tomorrow."

Duchess turned her back towards him offended. Harry looked out. The nearly full moon bathed the land around Hogwarts in bright light. After all the time that he had spent inside the castle walls, the idea of ignoring Albus' instructions was very tempting. And to fly around … with a longing gaze, he looked toward his suitcase where his Nimbus 2001 was safely kept. What is more, he had promised Duchess!

Harry actually managed to sneak out of the castle, fly with Duchess around the grounds, and then return undetected to the tower. At least he thought so, until Albus called him into his office the next day and showed him the cover of the special edition of the Daily Prophet. There he was, as he flew with Duchess at his side in the picture, under it the heading 'Harry Potter High Flying!"

_Oops!_

* * *

The door closed more fiercely than it was necessary behind a frustrated little boy. Albus winced inside. Whatever he did, he always seemed to make Harry's life harder instead of easier. His whole life the boy had been imprisoned by his own in-laws, and now Albus himself was forced to limit his freedom of movement. It hadn't been an easy task to confront Harry about his little outing. And then he had to tell him some uncomfortable truth on top of this. He only could hope that the "punishment" for the secret flying would turn out something positive in the end.

One good thing resulted out of the whole affair in any case: Dudley would not be able to complain that Harry was allowed to do whatever he wanted. Albus knew that he didn't handle the situation with the destroyed room very well. But how should he made Dudley to understand that his guilt had been proven, whereas Harry's case had been quite different. Even if Harry hadn't looked innocent, his story about the house elf was too detailed to be a lie.

A soothing whistling interrupted his train of thought. Fawkes flew through the window, landed on his perch and let some herbs fall down. The Phoenix was in good spirits, although his plumage had some bald spots, which gave him a sickly look. He had been on the move during the last few weeks, often for days, and every time he returned with herbs, which he piled up beneath his perch. Albus knew only too well what that meant, as incredible as it was, he had actually lived long enough to witness as Fawkes reached a regular Burning Day. He felt old.

Perhaps too old to fulfill his last and most important task: to ensure that Harry Potter defeated Voldemort and survived the battle. Until now he hadn't done a good job. But he still had the change to put some things right.

* * *

Severus could hardly believe it. Potter's picture had appeared on the cover of almost every magazine in the wizarding world, from _Witch Weekly_ to _Seer!,_ and was even on the front page of _Wiz,_ the only international wizarding newspaper. In_ Feathers and Furs_, was an article about _'Harry Potter's Best Friend'_, while the _Gringotts Gazette_ praised Harry as the richest boy in the world. _TeenWitch_ speculated about his likes and dislikes, _Which Broomstick _about his broom, _Quidditch Illustrated _about his potential as a player, _Magical Meals _about his favorite foods, _The Hexed Hut _about the décor of his room, and _Witch Crafts_ offered instructions for conjuring a 'Harry Potter Supporter' badge. With all the magazine coverage, the fact that _The Herald_ had also announced a special broadcast about Harry Potter's life on the WWN wasn't worth mentioning.

The only good thing about the hype was that Potter's irresponsible night excursion had not gone unnoticed thanks to the long-term surveillance of the media. What was the brat thinking anyway? Everyone was doing their best to protect him, and he snuck out to take a joyride! And as if that was not enough, now Potter was going to be a pain in his neck for the next two days!

Of course, it was too much to ask that the great Albus Dumbledore personally supervise the punishment of his own ward. Severus had resisted. He had pointed out to Dumbledore the fact that he still had to prepare many antidotes for the coming school year. However, he had not been able to talk his way out of it. "But that is splendid!" Dumbledore said, "Harry can help you prepare the ingredients, and learn something new in the process!"

Unfortunately, Severus could not dispute this point. Harry did not possess the talent of his mother, the ability to know almost intuitively what and how much to add next to the bubbling cauldron, but a year under Severus' sharp eye had taught the boy diligence. Indeed, Harry might not always understand how and why certain ingredients react with each other, but when he followed the instructions precisely, than a passable potion came out of it. Besides, a little extra practice could never hurt.

So he left the boy disemboweling flobberworms and toads, and tried to ignore him - with moderate success. The time he had spent with Dumbledore had already ruined Potter's good education. The boy had actually begun to ask questions. Not incessantly, but whenever Severus began a new potion, or gave Potter a new task, he immediately asked for explanations.

"What kind of potion did we just make, Professor Snape?"

"What are the Flobberworms for, Professor Snape?

"Why does it make a difference which way you stir the caldron, Professor Snape?"

Severus would simply have forbidden him to talk, but Dumbledore had asked him to teach Potter something. After he had moaned for years to the Headmaster about the general disinterest of the students in brewing, he could hardly now ignore so much curiosity without making himself seem too implausible. Severus solved the problem more or less, by replying to the more intelligent questions, and nipping the others in the bud with a harsh: "I must concentrate!"

By afternoon, Severus had grown accustomed to not only giving instructions, but also one or two explanations on his own accord. In the meantime, as revenge, he grilled Harry about what he had learned, and assigned him things to research. Surprisingly, Harry followed his instructions, and the next day Severus actually found himself giving him a lesson on Golpalott's Third Law, although it was sixth year curriculum. As expected, Harry did not fully understand what it was about, but his eyes began to shine all at once.

Severus had long since resigned himself to the fact that few students developed an understanding of the art of brewing. Even in the NEWT courses, he was lucky if just one really had an interest in the field, everyone else chose the subject just because they felt it was necessary for their future careers (usually as a Healer or an Auror). Up to now, he had estimated that Harry was just one more of the students who preferred waving a wand to brewing. However, there he might have been mistaken. Severus decided to secretly encourage this interest further.

* * *

Potions would never be his favorite subject, of that Harry was sure. What one could brew in a cauldron was fascinating, but he found the preparation tiresome. It was not like cooking, which he had done mostly by feel rather than by recipe, and by doing so had produced some excellent, and sometimes adventurous, mixtures. With brewing, precision was required, along with a lot of patience. The latter, especially, was not one of Harry's strengths.

However, Professor Snape had said something that would perhaps help Harry to solve the riddle, which had already occupied his thoughts for days. Golpalott's Third Law stated that an antidote for a blended poison was more than the sum of the antidotes for each of its single elements. This had given him an idea. So that same evening, he stood before the bronze eagle, and pulled on the knocker.

"How big is the Universe?"

Harry took a deep breath. This time, it simply had to work!

"The whole is equal to the sum of its parts," he answered. He could have just as easily have said that it was as big as it had to be, but he had the feeling that the intellectual response had the greater hope of success.

"Very well thought out," said the eagle and the door opened. Harry entered a large circular room with huge bay windows that provided for a spectacular view of the nearby mountains. Every centimeter of the walls was covered with bookshelves. Harry dropped into a deep blue armchair and stared up at the high domed ceiling that was decorated with stars. So this was the common room of the Ravenclaws. Well, at least it was a common room, but the blue and bronze decoration left Harry with little doubt about to which house it belonged.

But he liked this place. The airy room gave him a feeling of freedom. And the many books certainly offered interesting reading. The armchair was so comfortable that Harry could hardly rouse himself to stand back up again to inspect the dormitories. He stepped through a door beside a statue that represented Rowena Ravenclaw and found another spiral staircase. As a Ravenclaw you were probably constantly running in circles! The stairs ended in a round windowless hallway with fourteen doors. Harry tried out a door and got a shock, which felt as if something sharp had pecked him. Startled, he drew back. Only then did he read the inscription on the door: 'Girls Dormitory, First Year'. Sucking on his bleeding thumb, he cautiously tried the door marked 'Boy's Dormitory, Second Year'. This time, nothing prevented him from opening the door. What he found was another spiral staircase. He rolled his eyes, but also took this last hurdle, and reached the sleeping chamber.

Four-poster beds with deep blue curtains stood between arched stained glass windows, on which were depicted eagles, rising on the winds. The wide windowsills were about tabletop height, and under each one, a stool was pushed. At the foot of each bed, there stood a wardrobe chest with bronze fittings. Here again, the walls were covered with bookshelves, however, these were not completely cluttered. Harry looked at the titles. If he assumed that the books belonged to the inhabitants of the space, then one of them had a great interest in music. Another seemed particularly fond of playing chess. At least one was muggleborn, for 'Nils Holgerson', 'Treasure Island', and 'The Three Musketeers' certainly didn't belong to the normal reading list of a wizard. And then there were an unbelievable number of books on philosophy.

All in all, it was a normal dormitory, indicating normal inhabitants. Nevertheless, the idea of soon being exposed to an army of students, gave Harry some fear. Not long ago, he had looked forward to the start of the school year with joy, however the trip to Diagon Alley had taught him better. As much as he wished for it to be so, no one would see him as normal. At worst, he would be knocked down a second time as soon as he showed up at the welcoming feast in the Great Hall. Albus was right. The risk that accompanied it, simply to mingle among the students, was incalculable. Harry had no choice. He had to respond to Albus' proposal and accept special treatment, at least until the other students had gotten used to him.

* * *

It had always given Albus great pleasure to vary the sequence of the welcoming festivities somewhat. At times he led them in singing the school song, other times he talked nonsense, and once he even set off a small fireworks display. This year, he was unusually serious. Immediately after the sorting into the houses, he gave his usual warnings and instructions, before he added: "I'm sure you're all wondering where Harry Potter is." Now he had the complete attention of all the students in attendance. "I can assure you that the numerous reports are correct, at least in so far as that Mr. Potter resides here at Hogwarts. However, after the unfortunate incident in Diagon Alley, it did not seem advisable to risk another riot of this kind. Tomorrow morning he will join with the student body, and then you will all have an opportunity to get to know him." Excited whispering broke out. "Furthermore, he will not be sorted into one of the four houses." The noise level continued to rise. Albus watched the students closely, waiting until the first surprise had subsided, and then picked just the right moment to raise an authoritative hand. The whispering fell silent.

"Mr. Potter will continue to spend the night in his regular bedroom. I know that this may appear too many to be an incredible preference. Be assured that this arrangement also entails disadvantages. As Mr. Potter cannot win or lose any points, he will have to otherwise be punished for any offense. He isn't allowed to enter any of the common rooms to spend time there with his classmates. I trust that you will show him, however, that he is now a part of Hogwarts … namely as Harry Potter, not as the boy-who-lived."

Albus sat down again. Immediately, the discussions heated up again, louder than ever before. The aging headmaster just hoped that Harry had made the right decision when he had followed his advice.

* * *

_* You may be wondering why Madame Pomfrey did not place Dudley on a diet, but only ensures that he eats normal sized meals. Now, Dudley is only twelve years old and therefore still a child. Children generally should not be put on a diet, because they are still growing and need the nutrients. Even with a teenager, a diet should be carried out only under medical supervision, (so in the book, I hope that Petunia kept to the diet plan of the school nurse). Madame Pomfrey waits first of all, to see how overweight Dudley is full-grown, before making a decision on further action._

_What concerns Dumbledore: He obviously knows that Dudley eats too much, but on the one hand, he didn't want to make it more difficult for him to settle in unnecessarily, on the other hand, he wanted Poppy's advice before he did anything in this regard._

_**Explanation: Dobby warns Harry now, instead of on his birthday, because he did not know on that day where Harry was, or that he would be at Hogwarts for the next school year._

_***I have taken the liberty to invent some extra magazines for the wizarding world. It is likely that for most it is already obvious from the name what it is about, so I will spare myself those explanations. Seer! is a magazine that is mainly known for their great photos (like National Geographic, but for all subject matters); The Herald contains the radio program and is the general source for public meetings and special events. Wiz is, as already stated, an international newspaper that is read in England, however not a lot. (By the way, the headline on TeenWitch was 'Harry Potter's flight of fancy' and The Quibbler found their article on the Blibbering Humdinger more important ;-)_


	6. A changing world

_Note: First, a small explanation as to the classes: I tried my best to put together a timetable that is consistent with the books, but since JK is as carefree with the days of the week as she is at dealing with numbers, I could only put together one whic__h is more or less halfway realistic. The biggest issue is that there is only one teacher for each subject. Transfiguration, Charms, or Defense for example, are described as if the Gryffindors were taught by themselves …. If that were really the case, then the teachers would already be used to full capacity with just the lower classes: four houses in five age groups, is already twenty hours of instruction. Also in at least some of the books, we can prove it can be three hours per subject. As such, we would have reached sixty hours per week. So I had to come up with something._

_Potions is shown to take place for three hours a week (one sing__le and one double). This means that Snape has a thirty-six hour week (thirty hours for the lower years, and six for both Newt classes) ... this is at least feasible (although I wonder how he manages, especially when he has to fill in for Remus on top of his own classes). I eventually solved the hour problem by assuming that each subject is taught for three hours a week. In Herbology, Potions, and History, two houses are taught during the hour, in Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Transfiguration, there is one 'practice hour' in which only one house is taught, and two 'theory hours' during which all four houses receive instruction. (This would also explain why it was definitely only Gryffindors present during the hour with the Bogart, yet during the double hour when Harry confronts Umbridge, thirty pairs of eyes observed the situation.) Astronomy and Quidditch are special cases, to which I shall later return_.

* * *

As usual, it was a turbulent first day of classes at Hogwarts. However, this year there was barely talk about the new timetables. Even the new teacher of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Gilderoy Lockhart, winner of the Order of Merlin (Third Class), Honorary Member of the League for the Defense Against the Dark Arts, and five time winner of Witch Weekly's 'Most Charming Smile', had to (to his displeasure) take a back seat to _the_ star of the day: Harry Potter.

So far, no one had seen Hogwart's most famous pupil, but everyone already had an opinion about him. His special status as a 'student without a house' had caused a stir. Even those envious of him could barely believe it. The second years reaped many a jealous glance, for everyone was convinced they would be the first to meet Harry Potter in the flesh.

At first though, they didn't either - neither at breakfast or when the students went to classes. No one spotted Harry Potter. "Maybe he had class with the Slytherins or the Ravenclaws," mused Hermione Granger while the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs gathered in front of the greenhouses.

"Hopefully not Slytherin!" declared Ron Weasley. "Can you imagine how unbearable Malfoy will be at lunch, when he's the first to speak with him?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. Ron behaved as if Harry Potter was a trophy to be won, and he was by no means the only one. The notable exceptions were Neville (who didn't have enough self-esteem to believe he would be interesting enough for Harry Potter), as well as Megan Jones and Wayne Hopkins (who had known each other since early childhood and were so close of friends that they were not especially interested in anyone else).

Hermione could not understand this behavior, particularly as no one seemed to be interested in the boy himself, but only in the advertising icon. Certainly, Harry Potter was completely different in reality from what was always represented in the media. Luckily, she was not the type who could be blinded by such things. She peered at her timetable … why couldn't it already be afternoon with Lockhart teaching class?

Restless whispering around her, made her look up. Professor Sprout was approaching them from the castle, and beside her was a skinny boy with black hair and glasses. Hermione found his expression difficult to read, however she thought that he looked embarrassed. No wonder, with everyone staring in his direction, Lavender and Parvati even stood on their tiptoes, as if they could see him better that way. Hermione let out a contemptuous snort, carefully packed her schedule away again and closed her bag.

Contrary to expectations, Professor Sprout made no move to introduce her young companion. Instead, she only said - "Today we are in Greenhouse Three," and then led the way. For a moment, no one really knew how to react. The group obviously vacillated between the desire to be the first one to introduce themselves to Harry Potter, and the need to follow the instructions of their teacher. For Hermione the decision was easy. It was the first time that they were going to be working in this greenhouse and she definitely wanted to have a good seat. Harry Potter followed her lead, and soon the entire group rushed inside.

All the while Professor Sprout lectured, the students were distracted by the celebrity in their midst. It took two requests until they all noticed that they should pick up earmuffs. "A little more attention please!" demanded Professor Sprout unusually severe. "These plants are not to be trifled with." As she demonstrated how to repot mandrakes, she had the full attention of the class again. Then she had them divide into groups of four.

A year ago, this would have meant that Hermione would have waited, and then would have joined one of the two left over groups of three. But by the end of the last school year, Ron had drawn her into the group that he was in the habit of forming with Seamus and Dean. However, this time when she moved in the direction of the two friends, Ron caught her wrist and stopped her. "What is it?" she whispered. He gave no answer, but watched the others. Neville as always got together with Hanna Abbot, Susan Bones and Sally-Ann Perks. Lavender and Parvati, who otherwise would have been forced to work with Hufflepuffs, used the opportunity to pair themselves up with Seamus and Dean. Zacharias Smith was normally anxious to attach himself quickly to another Hufflepuff, however this time he inexplicably headed towards Ron and Hermione. While Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley joined with Megan Jones and Wayne Hopkins.

It was not until Harry Potter looked around searchingly, and Ron enthusiastically waved to him, that Hermione understood what her friend was up too. However, he was still not the first one to speak with Harry Potter - Zacharias Smith was faster. "Is working in a group beneath you Potter? It doesn't look to me as if you mingle with the common people." Harry flinched slightly, as if he had been struck, however even before Hermione had the chance to defend him, he shot back: "Is good behavior beneath you? Or don't you know what that is?"

Smith would have certainly responded accordingly, but Professor Sprout asked for quiet and proceeded to explain the properties of the mandrakes to them. Hermione caught the eye of her new classmate and smiled to show him that not everyone thought as did Zacharias Smith.

* * *

Harry sighed inwardly. The girl with the bushy hair had smiled at him, revealing a pair of big front teeth. Even the red-haired boy with the many freckles seemed to be quite nice. However, he didn't have much opportunity to talk with them, because they had to wear earmuffs during the entire hour, but in working together to repot the Mandrakes, certain camaraderie naturally developed, and so at the end of the hour he dared to connect with the two.

"What do you have next?" asked the red-haired boy. "By the way, I'm Ron – Ron Weasley." He held out his hand to shake that of Harry's.

Harry shook it gratefully and replied - "Transfiguration with the Gryffindors."

"Then you can come along with us," the girl with the bushy hair offered. "We are both in Gryffindor, I am Hermione Granger." Harry gave her his hand as well. He almost said it would be his pleasure, but that seemed a little silly to him. So instead, he asked - "Is transfiguration difficult?" Personally, he had been dreading this class.

"No," replied Hermione, while at the same time Ron said "Yes!" A giggle was heard behind them.

"You shouldn't ask Hermione a question like that," supplied a girl with blond, carefully styled curly hair, who was following along behind them with her Indian friend. "She is so crazy about studying she even sleeps with her books." The last sentence was said with a mocking undertone that Harry did not like. He showed the girl and her friend a cold shoulder and turned his attention completely upon Hermione.

"I read a lot too." Hermione gave him a thankful smile, while Ron suppressed a groan and quickly tried to change the topic.

"But you like to fly, right? I saw a picture of you in the newspaper."

Harry was not happy to be reminded of the photograph; however, he nodded. "Flying is great too," he agreed. Before he realized what he had done, Ron had involved him in a conversation about Quidditch, to which Harry had little to contribute, but he enjoyed it because it was so … so normal. With a spring in his steps and a light heart, he walked through the corridors of Hogwarts.

* * *

With lead feet, Dudley agonizingly dragged himself up the long spiral staircase, which led to the office of his new teacher. His classes started later this day than did Harry's, probably only because his teacher had arrived late on the previous evening. That was okay with Dudley, the longer he was spared, the better. He had always hated to learn, and here the lessons would be awful indeed.

He had not met his teacher, yet his worst fears were already confirmed. Why did he have to have his rooms so high in the castle? Why didn't he come down to Dudley to teach him?

Wheezing, Dudley finally reached a door and knocked. "Come in!" The thin wood muffled the voice almost beyond recognition, so Dudley was totally surprised when he opened the door and an old, but still vigorous looking woman, looked at him expectantly. He scrutinized her in silence. Unlike the other wizards, she wore totally normal, if somewhat old-fashioned clothes. Her white hair was pinned up in a bun, in which at least a dozen hairpins were stuck. Although she confronted him exactly at his eye level, she radiated a self-confidence, which reminded him to be careful.

"Good morning!" she finally said, but in a tone that made it clear that she had expected to hear those words from him. "You're a little late."

"I didn't expect that the way to your room would be so long," Dudley gasped our angrily.

"Well then, in the future you will know better, won't you? However, we are not going to waste any more time. My name is Mary-Claire Keen. You need not address me as 'Professor'; 'Mrs. Keen' is completely acceptable. We will spend our first hour getting to know each other better."

These words launched Dudley into a nightmare. Mrs. Keen gave him one test after another to evaluate his level of knowledge, only to say at the end - "I see we will have to start again from scratch. You may now go to lunch. I will see you again in one hour."

Dudley felt totally beaten and humiliated, and a little scared, because in order to get his lunch, he had to travel through passages, which were now swarming with young wizards. Fortunately, Dumbledore had forced him to wear a robe, which apart from the missing emblem on the chest looked similar to the uniforms of the Hogwarts students. Thus, no one noticed him when he went down to the Great Hall.

At the entrance to the hall, he stopped uncertainly. If he simply sat down at any table, they he would certainly attract attention. His instincts told him to simply leave again, but his stomach insisted that he remain, so he scrutinized each table to decide where his reception might be the friendliest. At one table, he discovered the freak, who was sitting with a small group of other students holding court. Dudley took two steps toward the table the furthest from them, before he changed direction and sat down close to the group anyway.

* * *

For Harry, Transfiguration consisted of primarily of chasing a beetle over his table. Although the theory behind the magic was quite familiar to him, the implementation did not come easy. Now he was eating lunch at the Gryffindor's table. Slowly he got to know them all. Hermione seemed to be clever, and very helpful. In Transfiguration, she had sat beside him and had tried to help, but since her tone always suggested that what she had just explained would have made sense to everyone else immediately, Harry found her efforts depressing rather than helpful.

The other two girls, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, were nicer than their first impression had made them seem. However, after the two tried to quiz him about what style of clothes he preferred, Harry could understand why Hermione was rather inclined to spend her time with the boys. When he then realized that Lavender carried a 'Harry Potter' bag around with her (with a stylized lightning-bolt shaped clasp and an HP insignia), he definitely kept his distance too.

In the beginning, Ron was very possessive, but after he sat down at the table, he had focused on his food. That gave Harry the opportunity to speak with the other boys. Seamus Finnigan turned out to be very curious. He immediately asked Harry about the Muggles with whom he had lived, and if it was true that they had mistreated him. As this topic made Harry very uncomfortable, he reacted very coldly, whereupon Seamus (who was easily offended) acted coldly in return, with Dean Thomas following his example.

Ron looked as if he would like to ask some similar questions, but after seeing Harry's reaction, he held back. However, Harry still felt that a large part of Ron's interest in him arose from his awareness of his fame. Hence, he felt more comfortable talking with the shy Neville, besides he did not make it a habit to speak with his mouth full.

"Hey! Who are you? You're not a Gryffindor, right?"

Harry glanced up to see that Dudley, who had sat down nearby at the table, had been interrupted while eating by a red-haired prefect.

"No, but I…," Dudley tried to explain.

"Students must eat at their own house tables," said the prefect strictly.

For a brief moment, Harry was tempted to let Dudley fight for himself, but he looked so uncharacteristically scared, that Harry could not make himself abandon him.

"He's my cousin," he intervened. "He is supposed to eat here in the hall. Albus said so."

The prefect looked at him sternly. "_Professor _Dumbledore, if you please." However, nobody really paid any attention to him, because now everyone was looking only at Dudley and Harry.

"Your cousin?" repeated Ron, staring at Dudley with interest. "Does that mean he's a Muggle?" Now all the students who came from wizarding families stared as well, as if he were a new species or a dangerous predator in front of them.

"Yes, we are both living with Albus," Harry glared at the prefect. There was no way that he was going to be denied the right to call his guardian so. "His name is Dudley.

Up to now, the presence of his Gryffindor classmates had made sure that the other students kept their distance. In addition, Harry had ignored their whispers as much as possible, however now the desire for sensationalism overcame all their inhibitions, and more and more students crowded around the table.

"Why isn't he is Azkaban?" asked Seamus.

"Maybe because he isn't of age yet," Hermione pointed out coldly. "Or should the Ministry put children into prison?"

Harry could only nod in agreement, before the prefect interfered again. "Of course not! But the rules clearly state…" but no one listened to him. Everyone seemed to have his own opinion as to what to do with the muggles who had held Harry Potter captive. In the midst of this hubbub sat Dudley, clinging to his luncheon plate and shrinking in on himself.

"What is the commotion?" The sharp voice of Professor McGonagall silenced all of those present. "Weasley…" Ron winced. However, she turned to the red-haired prefect instead of him. "…what is the meaning of this?"

The prefect nearly snapped to attention. "Professor McGonagall, I questioned this boy why he was here, and it turns out he is Harry Potter's muggle cousin…"

"And so he doesn't have the right to eat in peace?" Professor McGonagall stared sternly at the bystanders. "I am very disappointed in all of you. This is exactly the kind of reckless behaviour that Professor Dumbledore addressed at the Welcome Feast." All the bystanders looked slightly abashed. Yet no one moved from the spot. "If you don't have anything better to do than to bother your classmate while he is eating, I can give you something to do."

The multitude dissolved, until only Harry's friends and the prefect remained. "That goes for you too, Weasley." The prefect looked at her shocked, but then with a last scrutinizing look at Dudley he left as well. "Potter, why don't you introduce your cousin?"

Actually, the group around Harry had just been considering using the remaining time before the next class to do something outdoors. Therefore, it was unwillingly that Harry sat back down near Dudley, but far enough away to be out of kicking and poking range. Although Dudley was barely paying attention to him for the moment, it was always better to keep a safe distance. Hermione, Ron, and surprisingly Neville, took the seats beside him, but the rest of the group fled outdoors and out of Professor McGonagall's angry sight. Although, now that it seemed that her work was done, she continued on her way to the teacher's table.

"So, this is your cousin…?" Ron tried to fish for information without directly asking.

"Yes… and the red-haired Prefect…?" Harry asked, partly out of interest, partly to change the subject.

"My brother Percy, but don't worry about him. He always behaves as if he's swallowed a rulebook. But if you ever really need help, you can turn to him."

"So there really is a rule that says students can't sit at the other houses tables?" asked Neville nervously. "I often sit with the Hufflepuffs."

"The tables are considered 'in-house' territory, reported Hermione. "The tradition of the houses determines who may sit at them. At the Slytherin table only Slytherins may sit, at the Ravenclaw table we would have to prove our worth by answering a riddle. For the Gryffindor table you need an invitation from a Gryffindor, and the Hufflepuff table is open to everyone.

Harry was annoyed. Albus could have told him about that privately before now. Luckily, he had not tried to sit at the Slytherin table, a thought that was also reflected on Dudley's face.

For a moment, no one said anything. Harry felt that the others had questions about Dudley and him, but were holding back. He, however, was desperately trying to think of another topic to fill the uncomfortable silence.

"Do you also have Defense Against the Dark Arts with us?" asked Neville. Grateful for the change of topic, Harry shook his head. "No, next I have Astronomy with the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs, and then Defense with just the Hufflepuffs. I wish I could go with you now. I've always found theoretical lessons in Astronomy boring."

"You're telling me! We have the lesson right after. But as to whether Defense is so much better…" said Ron.

"You're only mad at Lockhart because of the incident in the bookstore," interrupted Hermione. "His lessons are certainly very exciting, what with all the things he has experienced!"

"He certainly won't tell us anything that isn't already in his books. He doesn't even go to the toilet without giving a press conference."

While Hermione and Ron debated it further, Harry leaned over to Neville. "What's that all about?" he asked quietly.

Softly the answer came back: "Didn't you see it in the Daily Prophet? But then it was only on page two."

Of course it was, since the front page had been covered with reports about Harry for weeks. This was precisely the reason he had been avoiding all the newspapers.

"Lockhart was signing books in Flourish and Blotts when Ron's father and Lucius Malfoy got into a fight. They bumped up against a shelf and it triggered a chain reaction, in which half the store was wrecked. A reporter, who was there to write a story about the book signing, witnessed the whole disaster and Lockhart used the opportunity to play the great mediator. When Lucius 'generously' paid for the damages, and then portrayed himself as the innocent victim of a fanatical ministry official who allegedly attacked him for no reason, Lockhart kept telling the reporter that he should write a story about it."

Now Harry could understand Ron's annoyance. Before the quarrel beside him could escalate even more, he interrupted them saying: "In any case, an hour practicing Defense is more exciting than theory."

"I wouldn't bet on it," grumbled Ron. "Sure, the hours are marked as practice lessons, but up until now, we haven't ever used a wand in Defense class."

Harry could hardly believe it.

"Never?"

"Have you had practical lessons?" Hermione asked with interest.

"Yes… Professor Snape spent a lot of time teaching me about vampires, trolls, and such, but for the last six months, he has insisted that I practice at least something every evening with my wand. He thinks Defense is very important."

"Professor Snape? Ron looked at him horrified. "My brothers have told me about him! He is terribly strict, but luckily, last year he wasn't teaching.

"He was my tutor," explained Harry.

"On Dumbledore's orders?" Hermione surmised shrewdly.

Harry watched out of the corner of his eye as Dudley's face darkened. He should probably keep an eye on him. "He is very strict, but I have learned a lot from him."

"You're good at potions?" Ron put the question as if the mere thought of it was unimaginable.

"I wouldn't say that. But at any rate, I'm better at it than I am at Transfiguration." Harry found it frustrating. There was no other subject in which he had learned so much, and yet had managed so little.

"You understand the theory already," Hermione assured him. "With the transfiguration of living beings into motionless objects, it all depends on…"

"Oh forget the stupid bug!" Ron interrupted her. "Today nobody else managed it. The next time it will work better."

Harry immediately felt more light-hearted. When he thought about it like that, he realized that Hermione was the only one who actually successfully executed the spell.

"Only if you three practice!" lectured Hermione, and a fresh quarrel broke out. Harry exchanged exasperated looks with Neville and they both rolled their eyes. Besides, he noticed that Dudley, who had already finished his meal, was listening in on their conversation with a strange expression of satisfaction on his face. Harry had had enough. He got up from the table.

"I think I'll go now…"

Ron and Hermione were so busy with their argument that they didn't even notice that he had left the Great Hall. Only Neville waved to him as he stepped out into the hallway… where dozens of students walking by startled at the sight of him, and began to whisper excitedly. Those who were the closest to him, slowed down their pace, while those who were further back began to push forward once they saw who had just come out. This created a small riot, reminding Harry of the unpleasant incident in Diagon Alley. So he quickly dived into a narrow passageway, and took advantage of the many shortcuts and hidden passages by which he knew he would be able to reach a part of the castle that was less crowded.

He still had a bit of time before he had to go to class, so he went in the direction of the Owlery. During the day, it was a peaceful place where only the occasional rustle of feathers broke the silence, while most of the owls slept. Duchess would be happy to see Harry. She had been forced to adapt to the daily rhythm of her roommates, but snowy owls were not usually nocturnal, so she always came immediately when Harry visited her during the day.

As Harry climbed to the tower, he heard a noise, which for the time of day was very unusual. The sound of hundreds of fluttering wings was drowned out only by the loud calls of the owls. Fearing the worst Harry took the stairs two at a time, and collided at the entrance to the Owlery with a plume of brown and white feathers. Harry stumbled back and barely held onto the railing.

"Ow! Watch it!"

The plume turned out to be a blond boy whose uniform was filthy from top to bottom with bird droppings and feathers. Because of the collision with Harry, he had unceremoniously landed on his arse, and was now staring at him angrily. "Can't you pay attention?" The cry of an owl made him whirl around in alarm. With dignity, Duchess glided through the door of the Owlery, touched the head of the terrified crouching boy with her talons, and then landed on Harry's shoulder. That made the boy even more furious.

"You ungrateful bastard! Just you wait! My father will make sure that you get what you deserve!"

"You leave Duchess in peace!" Harry shouted furiously. "She's my owl!" Just who did this arrogant idiot think he was anyway?

"Only because Dumbledore stole it from me!"

So this was Duchess' previous owner. No wonder the school owls had reacted like that to him.

"That was probably because you broke the school rules. Duchess belongs to me now, and you will never do anything to her again, or your father either!" The idea that he was a celebrity was still frightening for Harry, but he was not blind to the benefits his newly discovered status brought with it. Then he remembered what Hagrid had told him about the school owls, and added: "If your father ever knows about it. In any case, the school owls certainly won't be taking him any news from you."

The boy got to his feet. "We'll see about that Potter!" He spat out the name as if it were a dirty word. "Nobody tangles with a Malfoy!" Under other circumstances, the threat might have been impressive, but spoken by a boy who looked like a feather duster – Harry could not help it, he laughed out loud.

Malfoy angrily stormed past him, and intentionally shoved him in the shoulder. However, before he disappeared behind the next corner he paused briefly and bestowed Harry with a look full of hatred. Harry ran his hand reassuringly over Duchess' soft feathers, and she nibbled affectionately at his ear. He had no doubt that he had just made an enemy.

_

* * *

_

_Dedication: This chapter was mainly written for DracaDelirous, who is still faithful translating this story for me...without her, I think I wouldn't be ready yet. _


End file.
